My Fair Lady
by NextStop.Happiness
Summary: When Ari goes off to Paris with his girlfriend, Max is forced to become his replacement.  With a boyish cut and a flat chest.  What will happen when she debuts in a male music group as Ari?  Plot based off the Korean drama, You're Beautiful.  R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys, it's Sam C: here! Judging from my smiley, I'm sorry to say it's not an update on **"The Mysteries of Love". **This is actually a new story that I started to write. It's called **"My Fair Lady"**, featuring my current loves, Maximum Ride and Fang from the book series, Maximum Ride! This plot is actually based off the hit Korean drama, **You're Beautiful**, but I wanted to incorporate it into this story since I think Max and Fang resemble the characters in the drama (Except for some personality differences). No worries, guys! **"The Mysteries of Love" will be put on HIATUS**, but I won't ignore it. I love Misty and Ash too! And although I have all my notes for the next chapter, I just haven't had time to write it.

Anyways, I'm hoping that you will R&R for **My Fair Lady**!

Max - I'm a guy?  
**Sam C:** - Yap.  
Fang - Am I stll a guy?  
**Sam C:** - You're way too sarcastic.  
Max - Oh, I so agree with you there.  
Angel - Fang hates you, Max, for agreeing with Sam C:  
Max - Aww! I TOTALLY feel the same way! Let's hug!  
Fang - **GEROFF ME!  
**Iggy - Maximum Ride is owned by James Patterson! NOT Sam C:  
**Sam C:** - Thanks Ig! On with the story!

* * *

"Miss…Miss…Miss…Miss Ride!"

H-uh? My eyelids started to flutter as I started to realize what was happening. Removing my huge white sunglasses (A present from my biological mother, Valencia, before I took off on an airplane from Washington D.C. to Los Angeles) , I glanced around to see the people around me removing their carry-on luggage from the storages and stalk off into the gateway.

"We've arrived in Los Angeles, Miss Ride." The overly-friendly, way too smiley flight attendant said, keeping a smile plastered on his face. I was slightly alarmed that his face didn't break within the thirty seconds where I was just staring at him like a complete moron.

"Wh-what?" I stammered. "I SAID…" The flight attendant repeated, clasping his hands together like he was praying. "That we've arrived in Los Angeles, Miss Ride. Please remove your luggage and head off to the gate."

Following his orders, I quickly scrambled to my feet, strapped on my messenger bag and took out an athletic sports bag (Surprisingly, it smelt really good…AND it was one of my twin brother, Ari's, hand-me-downs.)

Just as I passed the hallway into the airport, I heard the flight attendant behind me snicker to his pals, and then muttered, "Complete **re**-tard." _Notice: Emphasis on the RE._ I rolled my eyes and shot him a death glare, daggers and all. "And you're a **total dick**, Mr. Re-tard."

He stared, open-mouthed after me and I left with my pride and dignity. Okay, so I guess this is where I make my introductions while I try to get myself through the airport without my claustrophobia getting to me. So…

My name is Maximum Ride. People call me Max for short though, and I prefer it that way. I have long brown hair with sun streaks (A reward from staying out in the sun too long: Running, jogging, swimming, tennis playing, you know the drill), and unbarfed chocolate-coloured brown eyes. Right, and I'm eighteen-years-old. Brown hair from my mother, Valencia, and hazelnut-shaped brown eyes from my father, Jeb.

Oh yeah, I also have an older brother by just thirty freaking seconds that he tortures me about daily, even when we're speaking through Skype or messaging each other on Facebook. It's either "Hey Mom's Second One By The Big 3-0!" or "Half a Minute Brat". Yup, he's my twin brother, Ari.

You see, ever since I was ten-years-old, my parents were divorced. The judge then pronounced me to my mother, and Ari? My father. As a sort of "punishment" for "my parent's foolish and childish actions of putting their children through a traumatic experience" (I call it a great opportunity, no offense there Judge Judy), I was able to spend my summers with Ari and my father in Los Angeles.

So that's how eight quick years flew by, and eventually, I've become a "young adult" too. Usually, my over-protective mother would accompany me on my airplane flights, and then take a flight back to Washington directly as soon as I landed. She didn't need to worry about me: I was perfectly capable of reading signs.

This time, it was…well…kind of different. Mom couldn't come with me this time because…she's freaking out in Washington right now. As a perfectly single woman, she started to get back into the "Dating Zone" when I turned twelve and gave me the inescapable talk about young men. Again, no need to worry: I consider myself a tomboy, and I am **SURE** (Sure as fire), that I wouldn't fall in love. At least, not yet.

Just a couple days ago, Mom got proposed to by her two-year boyfriend Robert. And I was happy for her, I really was. Robert wasn't a total psycho or a freak who would try to manipulate Mom, so…it's all good. And the second reason I'm here is…I'm not exactly here to vacation, but to visit my traumatized Dad.

Why is Dad so traumatized? Usually, he likes to keep a cool head and think things over before doing anything. Well, just a week ago, Mom received a call from Dad, and there Dad was, going all, "Ari this…" and "Ari that…" and "Ari in the middle…" and "**ARI LEFT ON AN AIRPLANE TO BE WITH HIS STUPID ONE-MONTH GIRLFRIEND, AND THEY'RE IN PARIS!**" (And mind you, he was shouting).

And of course, I started to freak out too. I mean, after all, WHY in eff-you-see-kay's sake will you leave with Dad's credit card AND a girlfriend that you found at a party? Dad isn't completely made of cash you know! And really? Did you ask her out cause she's hot, but she's as dumb as bird crap? Sometimes, I really don't understand Ari…but I guess he's a guy. And guys do guy things.

So anyways, here I am, with my shades over my eyes, waiting in line for my passport to be checked. I glanced at him through my shades and snorted. Bald, moustache-y, two spare tires and…is that chilli cheese dog sauce still dripping from his top lip? He tried to make his voice sound alluring as he saw me. I bet he got it up. **JUST KIDDING**.

"Hey there."

Blink.

"Hi."

"Where are you staying?"

"Los Angeles with my dad?"

"How old are you?"

"Look at my passport."

"Are you single?"

This was getting WAY out of hand, my friend. I removed my shades and smiled innocently into his face. "Listen up, you big spare tire pedophile! My stepdad? Yeah, he's a professional boxer. If you even TRY to put your hands on me, you'll regret asking me if I was ever single."

Immediately, he shut his mouth. HA! That always did the trick. Truthfully, Robert was a veterinarian, just like my Mom! But hey, even if the boxer thing didn't work, I could always tell future pedophiles 'My stepfather is a surgeon.'

It's not REALLY a lie. He does operate. On mammals. And humans are mammals.

"H-here you go." Gee, I must've scared the old spare tire so much. Even his hand was trembling. "Kay, thanks and bye."

Just as I got out of the gate and was staring into the open space around me, looking for my Dad…

"MAXIMUM RIDE!"

Dad enveloped me in his arms. Literally. Thank goodness I took in a deep breath a couple seconds earlier, cause right now, I couldn't breathe. "Dad…Dad…Dad…DAD!" He looked startled when I shouted in his ear. Several times in a row.

"I think you can let me go now." "Oh, right, right." Then he came in for the big hug. You know, that's one of the things that I miss about my Dad so much. His great big bear hugs. "Aw, Dad! It's great to see you too! How have you been?"

His smile started to falter as he took my luggage and in a few moments later, loaded it into the back trunk of a snazzy sports car. "Dad! This is WAY COOL. Ultra cool! I bet this car is Ari's." I hopped into the front seat beside my dad, and buckled myself in.

The silence during the car ride was completely uncalled for. Therefore, I had to break the ice. Somehow…how about starting with the topic of lunch: What are we having this afternoon? _Yes, that is an EXCELLENT plan, Max,_ I thought to myself while grinning stupidly.

"So…" I began slowly, while taking off my sunglasses and stashing them in my sky-blue messenger bag. "Where are we going for lunch, Dad? Are we eating by the usual spot with the chilli cheese dogs or taking me out to Chinatown for dim sum?" My God, I just love those ha gao (Delicious and scrumptious).

"Um, sure, if you want." Dad replied uneasily, taking a quick glance at me and then at the crowded highway before him.

By the time we got to Chinatown, it was already noon, which meant parking space was limited. But because my dad was Jeb, he was deemed invincible when it came to finding a space for the tight race car. It completely baffled me when he lost a perfect parking space to an old lady who wanted to whack me with her umbrella when I shot her a dirty look.

Eventually, we made it to a little Chinese restaurant on the outskirts of Los Angeles' Chinatown. I tore through my dumplings, fried noodles and (of course) the plateful of ha gao like a savage beast. Please don't judge: I have an extremely high metabolism. AND I use up a lot of energy, even back at home! I was way too outdoorsy for Mom's taste, since she didn't always love wiping the soil on the floor after I came home.

I looked up at Dad, only to see him staring at his cup of oolong tea. He looked possessed. No joke. "Dad?" I asked uncertainly with my mouth full of shrimp. "Y'kay?" Dad replied with only a smile plastered on his face. However, it was no use. I could read him like an open textbook.

And something was on his mind that even I (A sixteen-year-old young adult who understood peoples' feelings and emotions) could not comprehend what it was.

After lunch, I stretched out my arms and legs near the entrance of the restaurant. I looked up at the name: Golden Chopsticks. I had to come back here sometime. "So…where are we going now, Dad? I would love it if we could go home and just watch soccer games. Just like we used to! Doesn't that sound like fun?" Dad's brow furrowed for just a moment before they uplifted. "No, sweetheart, we're not going home." He took my hand in his, and then said, "I'm taking you to a hair salon."

Geez, I actually thought it was some sort of sick joke. Never did I think that I – Maximum Ride – would need a haircut in Los Angeles. One thing about me though? I love my hair. I love my brown hair with sun streaks, and the way I would braid it each morning. Well…except sometimes…long hair could be hard to handle (Especially combing through the plaits). I guess the haircut wouldn't be TOO bad. Even if I did want to object, I didn't want to hurt Dad's feelings and his offer to pay for my haircut. So…I suppose zipping my mouth shut and locking it with a key will keep me out of trouble for now.

Once we arrived, I plopped myself onto one of the amazingly comfortable blue leather chairs, making a mental note to myself that I needed to buy one just like it (Or something similar, at least) when I got home back in Washington. Leafing through a fashion magazine wasn't one of the normal things I would do when I went to get haircuts with Mom, but since I didn't have my Nintendo DSi with me, I guess Teen Vogue would suffice for now.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Dad mumble out words to my hairdresser, and even took out a glossy photograph from his jacket pocket. My hairdresser gave out a very loud gasp, and then started to giggle up a storm. _Great_, I thought while rolling my eyes. It was just like facing Mom all over again when she told me Robert proposed to her.

At that moment, my extremely feminine-looking hairdresser Antoine stalked over in his ridiculously long red hair which he crimped…and also braided. Oh, dear God.

"Now, sweetie…" Antoine began as he placed a piece of white cloth over my clothes. "Just sit back and relax! I'm going to make you into a star people will love – I mean…I'll make you LOOK like a star! Oh Gosh, silly me! Ahahahaha!"

Oh, dear God times two. I was already pretty thankful that I didn't vomit the first time. And I also think I'm having a WTF moment, but the pitch of his voice sounded a little too…high up for the male register. Oh well. Maybe it's just my ears deceiving me, still trying to adjust to L.A. life.

"Okay." I replied. "You can cut it whatever way you want, as long as I don't look like a boy." Antoine's face flushed with colour, and then once again, started to giggle even harder. "Oh, honey! You amuse me like no other!" It was pretty obvious that my hairdresser didn't find it amusing at all. He ended up looking a little uncomfortable as he picked up the scissors. Whatever.

Let's just "go by the flow". It's a personal quote of mine that I share a love-hate relationship with. It helped me when I went on my first date (And last date) with a classmate of mine, Sam, and we kissed on my front porch. Yeah, it helped THEN. But when I knew there was a Biology test the next day, I "went by the flow", and thus was grounded for three weeks because I brought a B- home. Pretty good for a Grade 11 student who decided to sleep and get her necessary 8 hours of sleep instead of cram.

For the next half hour, I wasn't facing the flat mirror where I could observe and spy on my hairdresser's movements. No, no, Dad thought it would be a "superb idea" for me to be blindfolded before my haircut started. When I asked Antoine about it, he said it was for "safety issues so I wouldn't get hair into my eyes." Apparently, blindfolds make a great source of eye protective wear.

Finally, the soothing shampoo and condition came to play, and I knew it was time to uncover my make over. Just as I was about to yank my blindfold away, Antoine slapped my hands. Wow. Her hands are…so smooth. "Not yet, honey! You still need to style and blow dry!" The hot air felt REALLY comforting, but it wasn't the best experience when I listened to Antoine open up a container, take a dab of a paste, rubbing it in his hands and THEN scrunching my hair. It was SO PAINFUL!

I think Antoine motioned for Dad to come over, because I heard him say, "It looks awesome." Does it really now? Let's take a look!

…

Oh my God. Staring back at me with horror in her eyes wasn't me; it was…Ari. I looked completely like Ari with this hair! Oh my God. Oh my God. Wake me up from this nightmare please. I pinched myself. Yup; definitely real life. My chest-length brown hair was cut really short, even shorter than I could ever imagine myself in. Wispy bangs and a boyish haircut was the last thing that I needed.

I stared at myself in my reflection. Honest to goodness, I looked like Ari. Dad stepped up close to me and squeezed my shoulders comfortingly, probably to ease her traumatized daughter who resembles her twin brother. "Do you like it, kiddo?"

He called me **Kiddo**? Who does he think he IS? And look at Antoine, just standing there clapping! Oh wait…he brushed his hair back…he's actually a she. Her name is Antoinette.

My bad.

Still! That was NOT what we were talking about! "Dad!" I screeched angrily. "I look like…I look like…" Then again, now that I'm actually closely examining my new haircut, this boyish look really brings out the honey tints in my hair that Mom had purposefully highlighted one time. She wanted to test it out on me, and then her. Obviously, it turned out pretty darn fabulous on me, but TOTALLY ridiculous on her cause the next day, I saw a violent shade of putrid vomit when I woke up the next morning. And of course, the empty bottle of hair-colouring treatment in the garbage can.

I whipped my head around and around, and my boyish cut flipped cutely with me. I mean, okay, so it wasn't TOO long but it wasn't TOO short either. I tugged a piece of brown hair towards me, and then inhaled deeply. It smelt like green apples. Nom nom nom, it smelt so delicious.

Now that I think about it, my haircut looked like a simple white T-shirt that I could wash and wear easily, even daily! Even though I now loved my new hair, I was still pretty pissed at Dad, no joke there. I still had my feminine eyes, but I had some same features of Ari as well: The pert nose, and the same thin pink lips. This meant that I resembled Ari a bit too much for my own personal taste.

Dad placed his hands on my shoulders and squeezed them encouragingly. "I know things are confusing for you, sweetie. You just have to trust me on this one, Max. Please believe me." Dad's hazelnut-brown eyes seemed too earnest to NOT believe. And once again, that quote barged into my head: Go with the flow, Max, and all will be well.

I sighed, and then nodded at him. "I'm proud of you, sweetie." But what was he proud of me FOR? That was the ultimate question that was boggling my brain. Then, I proceeded to ask Antoinette what the delicious-smelling green apple shampoo was. "Oh, it's not a shampoo, Max! It's the Gatsby hair wax, the orange coloured! Would you like to buy a container and try it out? Only fifteen dollars for one! It's a GREAT DEAL!"

So after Dad paid for my haircut and my new Gatsby hair wax (I guess it is pretty cheap, and Antoinette DID do a pretty spectacular job if I do say so myself), we were out of the AC and back into the Los Angeles heat. We didn't go home yet. Not yet…and I sighed to myself, wondering what could be next. Geez, first a boyish haircut, and what next? A young men's clothing store?

I was right. "Great, Dad." I mumbled bitterly under my breath. "I bet it's going to be a sex change next." "Now, now, Max." Dad said soothingly, patting my hand gently as we got out of the car and we headed into a store where Ari usually got his clothes.

After gathering huge amounts of clothing and shoes, Dad literally pushes me into a change room. Get this too: None of the male employees here seemed to notice that I was a member of the opposite sex. Since I didn't have enough room on my hands to carry enough clothes, Dad took some for me. I sprawled out the clothes onto the purple cushiony seat into several piles: Jeans, t-shirts, jackets and the etcetera pile…not to mention the twenty pairs of sneakers, flip flops and non-girly shoes at all. "Assemble the clothes into an outfit that you could see Ari wear! Then, show me!" Dad called out from behind the door.

First, I arranged my most favourite pieces into several outfits. For the clothes that I disliked or weren't my taste? I threw them ALL back at Dad. That's Dad's just desserts for making me wear…boyish clothes and…get a boyish haircut. Obviously, Dad got kinda pissed.

When I came out of the change room, he would critique me on the outfit I had put together. He would either say something like, "I think it would best if you added this [accessory of your choice]" or "I don't think this jacket is too bright. I wouldn't bring out your eyes. Try this [clothing of your choice]". I can honestly say that I was critiqued at least ten times. I tried on everything; from dark wash skinny jeans to baggy t-shirts to Converse sneakers and (get this) boxers.

Finally, the clothing experience finally ended, and Dad's hysteria started to subside. Just by a tad, though. One of the most mortifying moments though? It was when Dad was paying for my huge pile of clothes (Resulting in a bill of at least five hundred fifty dollars), and our cashier smiled at me, saying, "Your son has such smooth skin!" and proceeded to stroke my cheek. When we left for the car, I kicked the door of Aris' door, leaving a large dent.

"Dad!" I shouted angrily. "I have questions for you, and I need them answered. NOW!" "Ar-Max. Please calm down, and please don't ruin that car. It was Ari's pre-debut present." "I don't freaking care about Ari's pre-debut present." I snapped. "You just called me Ari. So WHAT? Dad, tell. Me. Now." I enunciated every word. "Explain to me what the hell is going on."

Dad started to do something I've never seen him do before: He started to sweat, not because of the sweltering heat, but because of nervousness, and the fear that I could clearly see in his eyes. Dad started to wipe the sweat off of his brow with the back of his wrinkly hand. "M-Max," He stammered quietly. "I really need you to help me this time."

I was the "stubborn as a mule" type of girl, so there was no way in hell that I was going to help Dad…without hearing any explanations first. Crossing my arms over my chest, I looked at him, my eyes narrowing slightly. I leaned back against the smashed car door, now killing myself inside for ruining this little beauty. "Max…" Dad began slowly. "In any case, please be calm and listen to every word I say."

I snorted. "Haven't I been for the past three hours while landing here?" Dang right; I was never afraid to show my attitude to adults, even to my overly strict and overly-protective Mom. "You've got about five minutes until my patience starts to thin. Start talking." It was Dad's turn for his eyes to narrow at me, his lips thinning into a frown. "Maximum Ride, what is this sort of attitude that you are giving me here? If you wish to be so uncooperative, then I suggest that you buy yourself a ticket back to Washington." I fumed, turning my head away.

"Anyways, I require your help because just about a month ago, Ari auditioned for a group called One Winged Angel. And me, Jeb, is actually the manager of the group." I pursed my lips thoughtfully. "One Winged Angel? Oh…" I nodded, pretending to know what Dad was talking about, then I shrugged. "Never heard of them. So what exactly IS it that you want me to do?"

Dad sighed, then reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a photograph, featuring three young men, ages ranging from fifteen to nineteen. I could definitely tell who the leader was: Jet-black hair with intensely gorgeous dark eyes, dressed in ripped skinny jeans, a forest-green cargo jacket and sneakers while carrying an acoustic guitar. Damn, I must say, he's so breathtakingly…

Oh, crap. My face was getting red.

Shaking the ridiculous thought out of my head, I continued to put on my poker face. "What's up?" Dad looked pretty uncomfortable up to this point. "Well…you see…Ari auditioned very well. He has a wonderful singing voice, killer looks and wonderful dancing. But…"

I did not like where this was going. I also decided that I should finish the story for him.

"But I'm guessing a week ago before Ari's debut with One Winged Angel, Ari partied a LITTLE too hard and thus, he ran off to Paris to do baby-making with his girlfriend. Hence your ballistic phone call on Sunday." Dad nodded, smiling faintly. "So, so, so…I was just wondering…if you could…"

I face-palmed myself, shaking my head. Oh, my God. How will I ever get the musical talent that Ari must've worked for a year to get? "Oh right." Dad added in. Glancing at his watch did NOT give me a good impression of the situation at all. "Thirty minutes to meet with the rest of the members. If you don't help me..." Dad's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm going to get fired from my job."

Oh, goodness. I'm pretty much crapped. And to add that I didn't have any choice in whether I wanted to do this or not.

…

**CURSE YOU ARI! CURSE YOU AND YOUR RAGING HORMONES!**

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I know what you're thinking! _CHAPTER 1 IS WAY TOO LONG MAN!_ XD I'm sorry, guys! It's just that it felt necessary to add in every little detail. But **WAIT!** How will I know what you think and what you expect for this story if you have some things to say? Constructive criticism = Yes. Feedback = Yes. Reviews = MAJOR YES.

I hope I'm not being too picky, but I would like at least 1 or 2 reviews for My Fair Lady for this chapter? Next update will be of My Fair Lady! See you guys again soon!

Luff,

Sam C:


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! It's Sam C: again! First of all, I would love to thank the 7 amazing and WONDERFUL people who reviewed My Fair Lady! I am very surprised to see how many people are interested in this story, and favourited it/put it on their story alert list and of course, reviewed it for me! You guys are totally awesome, and I just wanted to give you guys shout-outs! Anyways, this is the latest chapter of My Fair Lady. Again, it's quite long (I think...just as long as the first chapter. Maybe just a tiny bit longer, but not by a lot!), but I'm sure you guys will enjoy it just the same! Thanks once again guys! **

**Sam C: - I got reviewwwwwws.**  
**Max - She got revieeeeeews.**  
**Fang - I think she's ewwwwwww.**  
**Nudge - Who is it that you says is so ewwww?**  
**Fang - I'm saying Sam :C's ewwwwww.**  
**Iggy - Don't be so mean to Sam C:, Fang! Why do you hate her so much?**  
**Fang - Well...cause I'm being a total ass to Max! **  
**Angel - Are you REALLY?**  
**Sam C: - ON WITH THE STORY! GASMAN, GO!**  
**Gasman - JAMES PATTERSON OWNS ALL OF US, AND MAXIMUM RIDE!**

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If you have been reading my previous rant on how my life is currently going, I'm continuing right now. And it's not turning out to be a pretty picture, I can tell you that. Nope; no rainbows, no fairies, no unicorns to take me to my castle and a solid gold bathtub. Nothing of the like. It's more like walking into the boys' bathroom of a department store, and then discarding my jeans and most favourite windbreaker (I actually shed a few tears when I threw it into the garbage can, no joke) for more boyish attire.

As I stripped down to practically nothing (Thank God for the only cubicle found in the boys' bathroom. Do guys don't really care about privacy nowadays?), I was given at least a moment to think through all of the events that happened to me just a couple hours after landing in Los Angeles. For God's sake, I was here on **VACATION**. Not to start a **SINGING CAREER**.

A vacation allows me to RELAX and get away from Mom's freak fests at home, and her constant rant about how her usual pedicure and manicure salon didn't do her acrylic nails right. A singing career, on the other hand, doesn't give me a chance to relax. In fact, the idea makes me hurl. And I could do it right here in the bathroom. But I knew I had a job to accomplish: Impersonate Ari in order to save Dad from getting fired.

First things first: To become a boy, you must be breast less. And to become breast less, you need to wrap a piece of thick, fat gauze around your chest to flatten them. Okay, FINE, so it isn't the BEST idea that I have, but what else can I do? I'm not going to listen to anything such as...you know, THAT thing! Just…**no**! Don't even think about going there! Should I thank the heavens that they aren't too big?

Yap.

Then, I wore an extra white tank top underneath, and finally, a t-shirt. HA! And to think that it was completely stupid that Dad should buy an extra size larger in my clothes right? Yeah. I was completely wrong.

Hmph, now that I look at myself in the mirror (With my new clothes and my hair), I DO have a high probability of being mistaken for Ari. Maybe…97.5% guaranteed. The washroom door creaks open, and a guy around my age with dirty blonde hair gives me a nod. "Nice-looking threads, man." He then prepares to open up his fly and prepares to pee. Oh gee, things just couldn't get BETTER. Please note the overly sarcastic "**better**".

I think I'm going to have to get used to talking like a guy too, but I'm not too worried. Using the male lingo plays a large part in my life, especially since I Skype with Ari pretty much every day when I was home back in Washington. I can also add that I am very used to seeing Ari shirtless around the house when I came to visit him and Dad. Right, should I also mention the time when I walked in on him and his "love bunny" making love in his bedroom? Yep. I may be "The 30 Second Wonder", but I STILL love tormenting him about that incident, thus making it easy for him to shut up about our births.

"Uh, same to you too, dude." I personally believe that his stained t-shirt and bermuda shorts clash horribly, and really, I'm a sweet girl, so I won't try to hurt the poor kids' self-esteem. While washing my hands, the guy started to pee in the urinal. We went out the door at the same time…but he happened to avoid personal hygiene.

"Kay, I'm being totally honest with you." I said to him disgustingly. "You are a slob." The guy scoffed. "And you're being a total girl?"

Man, oh, man…_if he only knew_.

And oh shit, I almost blew my cover. But to protect the world from disgusting young men like him, well, I had to do it. "Listen up, buddy." I hissed, grabbing the collar of his shirt. "You won't try to mess with me. You know where I got these threads?" I asked menacingly.

Now he was starting to cower, but still tried to remain strong and…masculine…and manly. And all of those things that guys do to show that they're not afraid of anyone. It was pretty amusing, really. "No, I don't know." I dropped my voice to a low whisper. "I'm part of a gang, man, and you'll do best to wash your hands. My boss and I? We're tight. He got me these clothes since I'm his left wing man, and he's getting married to a maid who is a complete neat freak next April. We wash our hands and we also carry hand sanitizer in our pockets. Anybody who refuses to do the same?" I made an intimidating and ominous looking "KRICK" with my right hand. "They're dead meat."

The dude started to scream while I just blinked, crossing my arms over my chest. "**PLEASE** **DON'T HURT ME! PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!**" I smirked, and then stepped over his trembling body. His clothes were tracking up ALL the soil and grit on the floor. One more last trick up my sleeve, and he'll probably sleep with his lights on tonight and learn to practice personal hygiene from now on. "AND…" I roared angrily, while he only whimpered. "You'll make sure you bathe tonight. You're tracking up way too much dirt. Make sure you shampoo and condition, AND go to The Body Shop to buy the green apple fizzy bath balls. My boss loves them. And you'll know what will happen to YOU and your little dirty, unclean self if you don't do what I tell you to do."

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is how Maximum Ride rides while pretending to be Ari.

I walked out of the bathroom, where Dad was waiting for me while reading a latest review on One Winged Angel. "I saw everything, Max." He scolded sternly. "And I must say…" His eyes softened, meaning he agreed with my mini-quest to save the world from disgusting good-for-nothings like him. "You're pulling it off very well. Your mannerisms are so similar to Ari."

I smirked while he walked out to the parking lot. "He's my twin. I know him way too well." Eventually, we made it to a large and beaming skyscraper after a half an hour drive stuck in traffic, and me, sweaty and tired from wearing the huge amounts of clothes to hide my "curves", stood up and shouted at the agitated lady that was right behind Dad and me. "WE'RE ALL STUCK IN TRAFFIC, SO QUIT YOUR HONKING AND TEXTING ON YOUR PHONE!" Oh, how I enjoyed my new rights of being a man. I mean…young male adult.

Outside by the front entrance was a really COOL but lopsided-looking sign which seemed to be attempting to spell the letters "CME Intertainment". Whoever made this sign must have had some spelling trouble: They spelt Entertainment as Intertainment. "First of all, if I'm going to be Ari, I'm going to complain to the staff to make them fix this sign. Second of all, what in the WORLD does CME even stand for?" I asked loudly while Dad stashed my new purchases in the trunk of the sports car.

"Creators of Musical Energy." I wrinkled my nose. I'll be completely frank; Dad doesn't have a nice-sounding voice like that. Mom had described Dad's snoring as an "ear splitting shriek that you hear when a train slows down and stops."

"Dad, your voice doesn't sound that great, no offense. Are you coming down with a cold or a cough?" A voice snorted from a concealed hiding area; behind that huge potted plant near the front entrance. A fifteen-year-old young man emerged from the green ferns. His bright blonde hair was cut into a Mohawk shape, and his eyes were a brilliant bright blue colour. Despite being fifteen, he was already six feet tall. Woo, man. He still had plenty of time to grow, while I already reached my limit of growing any taller. Then again, my height of five foot eight already intimidated most of the guys back in Washington, and Sam (My first date) was no exception.

He had to stand on a phone book while kissing me. I mean, I am a non-shallow person who wouldn't judge people based on their looks, but I'm a girl. I have needs and one of my needs is to not be embarrassed in front of Mom, who is so successful with her fiancé, Robert, that I could literally kill myself if I hear "**ROBERT PROPOSED TO ME! I mean, ME! Of ALL PEOPLE!**" again. I had already told her that I'll learn to fall in love with I get to that stage, especially after the disastrous time she tried to secretly help me sign up for an online dating service which turned out badly.

_Back on track here…_

He sashayed himself over to me, smoothing his hair with one hand and then extending it. This guy is charismatic, man, no joke. He'll definitely be remembered in my heart!

_**PFFT.**_

Except for that moment. I think if I ever get the time instead of dancing my butt off at CME, I'll probably have a chat with him about his digestive problems and offer some remedies that could help. He seems to be a very down-to-earth, funny and amazingly sweet kid though. I definitely like him, and he's starting to grow on me.

"Sorry about that, man!" He grinned bashfully, flushing. "No big, dude. That's what we guys do! We show the ladies our best features." I said, taking his hand. "What's your name?" Aw man! Now he definitely has a place in my heart! His smile is too cute! And he has a dimple too! "I'm the Gasman. Now you see how I got this nickname from. I work here at CME. People call me Gazzy or Gaz for short."

I smirked. "Nice to meet you, Gazzy. I'm M-" OW! At that moment, Dad had kicked me HARD in the shins. I guess this is karma for slightly making fun of Dad's voice…AND for the fact that I had to impersonate Ari for the time being. "My name is...Ari." God, it felt so weird saying that! Either the sun was getting in Gazzy's eyes or it was what I had said, but Gazzy's bright eyes widened in shock and started to sparkle even shinier, if that was even possible.

"So…so…you, you, you, you, you…" I cocked my head to one side. "I'm…"

"WAHOO!" He practically shouted in my ear while pumping his fist into the air AND jumping at least two feet up from the ground. I smirked. I think I now have a good opponent to play basketball against, but first, I was going to have to bill him for the hearing aid that I now require.

"You're One Winged Angel's newest member! Manager Jeb's son, Ari! I can't believe it! That's so awesome! I'll tell you, Ari, I…" Gazzy clapped a hand against his chest proudly. "I am also one of your future band mates. I play electric guitar in One Winged Angel! God, it's so great to have you! Aw man, you're going to make life SOOO much more interesting!" Gazzy is quite the motor-mouth. "I heard a demo CD of your voice! It's so angelic!"

Aw, crud. I am so screwed now. An angelic voice? Me? Maximum Ride? _Please_. There was a reason that Ari had made it into the school choir while I was stuck carrying the country flag and waving it around during school assemblies. Still, this news didn't make my stomach churn badly. Gazzy's outgoing and bubbly personality can put me at ease any day!

Dragging me by the arm, he actually looked like a puppy tugging onto its owners' leash (In this case, it was my arm). He gave a quick "Hey there" to the young-twenties red-head secretary and we nearly collided into the elevator. "Take the stairs to the fifth floor, Jeb! I want to introduce Ari to Iggy personally!" Gazzy called as he slammed his thumb down on the Fifth Floor button.

Gazzy shot me a heart-warming smile. God, I could actually love this kid like my own brother as time goes by. "So how old are you, Ari? I'm turning fifteen and three quarters in August." I chuckled merrily. "I guess you could say…I'm turning eighteen and a quarter in August."

Yup, my birthday was in June. And FYI, June 16th! Just then, the elevator rang its dreadful ding, and once again, Gazzy took my arm and we shot down a long hallway. Along the way, I managed to capture glimpses of previous musicians that had debuted under CME Intertainment, some groups and solo singers that I listened to: Flying High, Boy's Generation, High Kick, Caramel Candy...some random solo artists...and of course the latest group, One Winged Angel.

AND if you haven't guessed already, we collided into a glass door. Luckily, it only hit Gazzy and not me. He quickly recovered, and then pulled me into a room that I will call "The Practice Room" with its large plain mirror on one side and recording instruments sprawled out all over the floor.

"Iggy! You're still in the practice room?"

I was right. Kudos to me!

"I thought you left to get lunch in the canteen! I'd like to introduce someone to you! This is our newest member, Ari Ride!" Gazzy shouted excitedly. Sitting on the hardwood floor was a tall, gangly sixteen year old – also around six feet tall with bright turquoise blue eyes and a mop of strawberry-blonde hair on his head. He looked up to where Gazzy was and smiled. "What does he look like, Gaz?"

And then off Gazzy went with his motor mouth, describing me as a "shorty with brown hair that looked like it got attacked by some very ripe tomatoes and un-barfed chocolate eyes." Greeat. Not only am I short, my hair is also sporting some very delicious and healthy tomato juice. I take my affection for Gazzy BACK.

Oh, I just can't do it. He's just too cute to hate.

Iggy stood up slowly, and then walked towards me. "Ari, huh? It's good to have you. You have a very nice name. My real name is James, but everyone here calls me by my stage name, Iggy." He reached out his fist, and I pounded it. I've had practice pounding fists with my guyfriends back in Washington, and of course, with my dearest inexcusably stupid twin brother, Ari. It didn't hurt me. Much. I shall say my thanks to the heavens that Iggy wasn't wearing any sort of hard jewelry later at night. "It's nice to have met you too, Iggy. I'm looking forward to having you guys help me improve."

Improve meaning…develop my vocal skills by a lot before I perform with my so-called "angelic voice".

Iggy chuckled. "If you haven't noticed though, Ari, I'm actually blind." He confessed it to me as if it were no big deal. I, for one, was taken aback. "So what instrument do you play?" I asked curiously as the three of us walked towards a professional-looking drum kit. Iggy twirled his drumsticks in the air that were set on top of the snare drum. He grinned bashfully.

I'm still shocked. Iggy is way too amazing and talented.

"Tell me your story, Iggy!"

"Well, I've always had a thing for rhythm, so I begged for my parents to let me learn." He explained, giving off a soft drumroll. "Wasn't it hard at first to figure out all the different components of the drum kit?" I asked nosily.

_God damnit, Max, just shut your god damn mouth. _I thought to myself angrily._ If you ask another rude question, I swear, you will be seeing scratches and a lot more dents on Ari's fabulous car._

"It was." Iggy confessed. "It took me almost five months to figure out where everything was, but once I did, it became easier. With a lot of practice and…maybe about a thousand dollars' worth of drum lessons, I made it in to One Winged Angel as the percussionist."

At that moment, I really wanted to cry. I am also the type of girl that wouldn't cry much, but if I read and watch inspirational videos or even the sad Japanese animal movies, I'd shed tears instantly. Iggy was one inspiration, and his story would be cherished forever in my heart. No corniness there, it's true.

"Dude?" I began, sniffing slightly. "You're my hero." Iggy grinned. "I can't wait to see what you can offer to One Winged Angel." He replied. Then, Iggy stretched out his head to stare at Gazzy, who was immersed with a cartoon on TV featuring an aardvark wearing glasses. "Gaz, is Fang back?" Gaz shrugged, or I couldn't tell really, because he was laughing and his shoulders were heaving up and down when the aardvark got hit in the head with a bowl of spaghetti.

"Who's Fang?" I asked loudly AND stupidly. Iggy stared at me like I was sprouting fangs – no pun intended. "Ooh, Ari, you're going to be in so much trouble." Gazzy warned. Thanks for the encouragement, Gasman. I whirled around and – even though I knew it was a bad idea – I gasped at the person who just walked in.

If I remember correctly, it was the same jet-black haired boy from the photograph Dad showed me back at the clothing store. Judging from the impassive expression on his face…

He probably heard everything.

My bad…but IN MY DEFENSE, Dad only showed me who the members of One Winged Angel were, he didn't TELL me their names and what not. And besides, it was great talking to Iggy and Gazzy and getting to know them personally. I hate to say this, but living in Ari's shoes sometimes…wasn't all too bad.

Except for the death glare Mr. McGrumpy Pants is firing at me right now.

"H-hey, Fang." Iggy stammered slightly. Fang gave him a slight nod, and then walked towards me slowly. Our faces were only a couple inches apart, and that was when I could completely see his complexion. Fang had jet-black hair, with a floppy piece covering his right eye. And as much as I do find Fang's eyes very gorgeous, it kind of felt like I was staring into a pair of beetles.

I had to bite my tongue VERY HARD so I wouldn't laugh. I can't help it! I actually imagined Fang with beetles squirming around on his face, and I mean come on, it's funny. To me, anyway.

Just like in the photograph, Fang's complexion was blemish-free. No blackheads, no whiteheads, no pimples! But then again…make-up and moisturizer is a WONDROUS thing that could make all the difference.

I should also mention that my head only reached up to his shoulders. He was around six foot two, and I was about four inches shorter than he was. Like I said previously, he (Being nineteen years old), probably reached his limit of growing already.

He wasn't THAT intimidating.

"Ari Ride, right?" He asked gruffly, his expression slowly turning impassive. "Uh…yeah, I'm Ari, your newest member." Fang gave a slight smirk. "Well, hello to you too, Jeb's son who bought his way into One Winged Angel."

His last comment really stung, man. I understand that being the leader of a music group, you would want the best for your band mates, but was it really necessary to say that my gifted twin brother had to use money and Dad's connection to buy his way into the group?

Of course not! Why couldn't Fang have that outgoing and bubbly personality Gazzy has? Or be a sensible, sweet and humble young man just like Iggy? I cracked my knuckles with my fist. Our so-called "leader" better improve his attitude soon.

"Excuse me?" I asked angrily. As much as I loathe this person right now, his smirk really took my breath away.

**ACK! MAXIMUM RIDE, WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?** Thank God I recovered quickly, and was able to come back with a…well…a good enough comeback.

"First of all, Fang, you need to shut the hell up about my dad and me. My dad, being your manager, pretty much takes care of all your bare necessities. I may be Jeb's son, and I'll admit, he encouraged me to audition for CME. But did he pull any strings for me? No. I got in by my own talent and skills; it's as simple as that."

Fang raised his chin haughtily, but his expression changed from being impassive to some sort of concern…as if nobody had bothered to stand up to him before. I only saw that for a second though… 'cause the next thing I knew, Fang grabbed me by the wrist and yanked me out of the practice room to the end of the hallway to another room: The Recording Room.

Fang pushed me in roughly, making me nearly trip and topple over the music stands. "Watch it, man! Do you want to pay for my medical bills?" I asked angrily. Fang, completely ignoring me, locked the door and walked towards me. I edged towards the beige-painted wall, and he placed both hands beside my head. I was trapped.

And his breath smells so…lemony fresh. Ah…exhilarating…

_**SHUT UP MAX!**_

"If you're so full of yourself, Ari Ride, then show me. Show me your stuff, and sing for me." Then he pushed me towards the electric piano and I pressed on the middle C key.

Nobody, not even Mom, knows of my secret obsession for the piano. Ever since I was five, I placed my grubby little fingers on a grand piano, and I completely fell in love with it. Because Mom and Dad were so engrossed with Ari and were paying for him to learn all this and that, I ended up being alone in the house a lot since they were taking Ari to art lessons, singing lessons, drama lessons and what not.

When I was six, I stole one of Dad's bank cards from his wallet and went to find a suitable piano teacher for myself. Yup, I started to withdraw out at least two hundred dollars every five months.

My piano teacher was nice. She didn't charge me a lot. And of course, I put on my innocent face at the age of seven and told her that "I've been raking leaves and shovelling snow for petty cash and I really want to learn piano. Please teach me!" Heck, I still cannot believe that my beloved piano teacher was so gullible.

Every single day after school, I would lie to Mom, saying that I was going over to my best friend's house while really; I headed off to my piano teacher's house just a few blocks away. I would practice for HOURS, and I'll admit, I was literally obsessed with the piano.

Since Mom caught me stealing HER bank card from her wallet after she and Dad divorced, I was then unable to continue my piano lessons. She now has it locked up in her indestructible safe.

Enough of this though; reuniting with my beloved instrument was…like waking up on Christmas Day to find presents underneath the tree!

"ARI RIDE," Fang yelled angrily, startling me from my musical childhood. "Are you going to get on with your lousy singing or not? Stop wasting my time."

I grinned up cheekily at him, which was probably the last thing Fang wanted to see from me. "Time is never wasted when you've wasted all your time, Fang." I swear…is that a twitch I see from his bottom lip? HA! You can never change away your qualities, male OR female, and one of my specialties is getting myself out of trouble using humour. Mom calls it charisma; I call it "smartly plotting a scheme to avoid getting into any sort of mishap".

As I stretched out my hands, I sat down on the leather chair and placed my hands and fingers on the keyboard. Okay, well, even though I didn't take **LESSONS**, I was still able to visit my piano teacher. From then on, I would practice for about an hour and devour my piano teacher`s truly amazing chocolate chip cookies. From _**SCRATCH**_!

Okay, I better shut up because Fang rips my throat out due to his growing impatience. I started to play a piece that my old piano teacher loved to listen to. It was called Falling Slowly, from an Oscar-winning movie called Once.

_Here goes nothing._

I opened my mouth and started to sing.

But then got distracted by the DAMN POUNDING OUTSIDE THE ROOM! I turned my head, and sure enough, there was frantic-looking Dad, blind Iggy trotting towards us like a glasses-wearing penguin who was led by Gazzy. All of them started to hit the bulletproof glass with their fists, especially Dad, who was shouting something in which I couldn't hear. It SEEMED to go by the words of this: "GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE! YOU'RE GOING TO GET BUSTED! DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO NOT AROUSE FANG? YOU'RE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE, YOUNG LADY!"

Well…one good thing came out of this: At least Dad acknowledged me as a woman, not a man.

Ignoring their muffled shouts, Fang glanced at me with his dark eyes.

And once again, I started to play, my fingers playing each note, forming each single chord in the left hand. When the melody came, I opened my mouth and sang softly, no matter what the outcome would turn out to be.

* * *

**There you have it, people! The latest chapter of My Fair Lady! Care to drop a review?**

**A) Yes. B) Major yes. C) Totally! Of course! D) ALWAYS!**

**Teeheediheehee. Chapter 3 might be delayed, but nevertheless, I will try to finish the first five chapters before summer ends. Again, constructive criticism, feedback AND reviews are always welcome! Talk to you guys soon!**

**Luff,**

**Sam C:**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, guys. Sam C: is back and she's ready to roll! (I think). But anyways, hey guys! Are you actually serious? We've reached 20 reviews for Chapter 2! How could I ever thank-you? XD And we really need to celebrate just for making it into the double-digits. It's great to see that My Fair Lady is getting some readers! I was actually really surprised when we hit 20 reviews (I think...today or yesterday? I completely forgot!). You guys make me so happy! So in order to thank-you, here's the latest chapter for My Fair Lady!**

**As well, the reviews you guys give me rock! I'll promise to work harder and make this story a good one to read and it won't be a waste of your time! I promise! (Shout-outs are listed at the bottom! C:) **

**Well, enough chatting, on with the story!**

**Sam C: - 20! 20 beautiful reviews!**  
**Fang - God, shut up already.**  
**Max - Well, it's her happiness. Let her be.**  
**Nudge - When did you ever become such a dick, Fang?**  
**Fang - Since I discovered that I'm being...**  
**Sam C: - DON'T SPILL ANYTHING!**  
**Gasman - FANG, YOU SUCK! **  
**Fang - I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING!**  
**Iggy - Ladies and gentleman? James Patterson is the amazing author behind the Maximum Ride series!**  
**Sam C: - Aww, Iggy! I love you so much!**  
**Angel - Let's get started, shall we?**

* * *

When you ask me to define an amazing voice, I could definitely show you a whole bunch of singers. For example, Alicia Keys, Rihanna, Kelly Clarkson, Jason Mraz and so many more. For starters, I can clearly say that I don't have a nice voice like them; I'm not pitch perfect, yet the reaction I received from Fang, the rest of the trio that barged in using Dad's extra recording room key was surprising. Hell, even I was stunned myself!

I'll admit – though I am not the type of person to brag – that my voice sounded pretty…darn amazing for a newbie singer. "I don't know you…but I want you…all the more, for that…" I sang, as clear as a bell. Dad's mouth dropped, and his eyes expanded to the size of dinner plates. And I mean this literally. As for Iggy and Gazzy's reaction?

"He sounds like…"

"I know. He sounds even better than…Fang."

"Ari has an amazing voice."

"Jeb, your son is hyper cool!" Gazzy cried out loud, nearly interrupting me as I began to sing the chorus. "He sounds EXACTLY like that demo CD!"

Whoa, whoa, whoa. **Hold up**. Did I actually sound like Ari's CD? I closed my eyes and smirked. I guess the Singing Gene Fairy decided to bless Mom and Dad not only one, but two fabulous singing babies. From this day on, I will always give my benedictions to the gods of talent.

I looked up at Fang, who was now avoiding eye contact with me, but he was glancing down at my fingers that were dancing around on the keyboards swiftly, smoothly. I grinned at him, and then at Dad, who gave me a secret thumbs-up from behind the way-too-excitable Iggy and Gazzy.

"Raise your hopeful voice…you had a choice, you've made it now. Falling slowly, sing your melody, I'll sing along…" When I finished the song, Gazzy jumped up high into the air like a maniac, all dignity lost while Iggy stared at me through his spectacles, his expression completely filled with joy. I looked up at Fang, smiling sweetly.

"Now do you see that I actually worked hard to get my results and achievements today? I didn't buy my way into the group, Fang." I told him logically. There are some days when I absolutely hate logic (Example: When my best friend J.J. "logically" told me that unless you were double-jointed, you could never lick your elbow, thus leading me to go into the emergency room with a sprained shoulder), and there are those **EXTREMELY** rare moments when logic works in my favour…like now!

The beetles blinked and hardened. I had to suppress a snicker, I just had to! "No, I don't believe that you bought your way into the group." He whirled around, his back facing me. I sighed in relief. "Okay, s-"

"But don't think I'm going to acknowledge you with respect just because you sang me this song. I'll admit that you have a great-sounding voice, but that's called talent. As a trainee here for seven years, I can tell you still have a lot of work to do." Fang glanced back at me (Or maybe just my fingers: Are they really **that** pretty?), and my heart nearly stopped pounding for just a moment. Just one second though. No, not even close; one-tenth of a second. "You need to go find the president and inform her of your arrival personally. She's going to arrange for a press conference for you tomorrow. Manager Ride, please give him a copy of the house key and drive him there."

I hated how Fang didn't have the balls to even look at my face. And I hated how he doesn't have enough testosterone to say my (I mean…my twin brother's) name out loud. Because I'm secretly a girl at heart, I would hold back my fists. If I were an actual guy (Not just on the outside, but inside, if I was carrying the sacs holding baby-making ingredients with flagellum attached to their bodies), I would knock the crap out of this guy.

I mean, who does he think he is?

Fang pushed his way past Iggy, Gaz and Dad while storming off towards the elevator. Although Iggy and Gazzy both crowded around me, congratulating me on a job well done (And Iggy was about one centimetre from nearly grazing my "flat chest"), I turned to look at Fang, who stepped into the elevator without taking a glance back at us. Then, I looked at Dad, mouthing the words, "Did you just call me a young lady when you were outside?"

Dad only replied with a shrug and a smug smile on his face. "_I only mouthed it; I didn't say anything, sweetheart._" I, pouting slightly, mouthed, "_Wipe that arrogant smirk away from your face, Dad. This is only the beginning of what will be part of my torture for God knows how long._" And thus, I went on with wrapping my arms around my two newest friends, Iggy and Gaz. "Oh, Ari! Did I teach you our secret hand shake?" I shook my head. "Do you guys stack fists or something?"

Iggy snapped his fingers, grinning. "Exactly, Ari, exactly…and Gazzy here…" He said slowly, pushing the overly cheerful blonde towards me. "Will show you how it is done perfectly."

* * *

**_(Fang's P.O.V.)_**

It was only a matter of time before I knew I was going to pop inside that recording room; I had to get out of there and fast. At that moment, only one question had boggled my mind: What was the mysterious hold that Ari seems to have captured me in?

Is it…charisma?

There was something wrong with that guy, I'll confess, but I also have to hatefully agree with Iggy and Gasman: Mister Ari Ride is definitely a better singer than I am. His rich, husky alto-soprano tone was completely uncalled for, plenty of vibrato and his control was…quite…good.

I think that's one of the reasons as to why I got so pissed. Never in my life has there been a moment when I wasn't compared to somebody; if it wasn't my "life size model sister (Who completely fails at life by tripping on the runway twice in three and a half inch heels)", it was my dad. Since singing was one of the only things that I can "lose myself in", I guess…I, Fang, am jealous of Ari, and his beautiful singing voice, and his voice was the only one (Out of at least twenty thousand people that auditioned) that could replace me as the lead vocalist.

Yeah, that's basically one of the main reasons as to why One Winged Angel needs a new member: Because I constantly abuse my vocal chords (Excessive yelling and talking clearing my throat way too much before warm up), I ended up having a problem with my voice, which was discovered about one and a half months ago.

I hate myself for abusing my body though. I hate having to become a back-up singer (Yes, guys have egos. Deal with it), and I hate the fact that I don't get to sing as much. But like President Marian said: I need my rest, and once I recover, I'll be able to quickly regain my title as lead vocalist. Hopefully…

Just then, the elevator bell rang and the door opened. Open sesame! _Not_. Looking up, I saw the gorgeous twenty-one year old receptionist for CME, Brigid Dwyer, waist-length red hair, emerald green eyes and all. She eyed me up and down, and sauntered in, a soft smile covered on her face.

Okay, I'll be truthful, I do have a slight…sexual attraction (Lust, okay, we'll go with lust, it sounds better than "sexual attraction") for girls with red hair, but it doesn't mean I'm willing to do anything with them. Nothing at all; it takes more than red hair and little tiny shorts to get me to love them back.

"Hey Fang," Brigid greeted me.

"Hi." "So um…" She inched closer to me. "I was just wondering…" She clutched her file a little too close to her chest, and her pencil skirt seemed way too short for suitable work attire. "Wanna come and grab some dinner with me tonight?" Ugh, is it just me? Or is there a fruity yet skunk-like stench emitting from Brigid's hair? Maybe it's just me…inhaling too much of Ari's disgusting Gatsby hair wax and it tampered with my normal sense of smell. Edging even closer to me (We were only a millimetre apart; literally), her sparkly leopard-coloured nails inched up my arm and gripped my shoulder tightly.

"We can do so much more after dinner…maybe even have some coffee. Doesn't that sound like fun?" Brigid tried to make her voice sound tempting. Okay, so I mean as a male, I do have a sexual urge for pleasure, and when a girl as bodacious and as gorgeous as Brigid tries to seduce me, heck, I…kind of got it up?

But to me, Brigid is nothing more than a good colleague and a nice friend whom I can have a casual chat with. Nothing in the bedroom; and if you're also wondering, I'm still a virgin. I know, surprising news for a guy like me.

"Um, no thanks," I declined politely. I might be a huge dick in the practice room, but as leader, I just want the best for my band mates. As for the ladies, you ask? I'm very polite and gentleman-y. "I'm flattered that you're asking me to dinner, Brigid, but I don't think I'm capable of fulfilling what you want."

Saved by the elevator ding!

"Anyways, I'm going to go now. I'll…see you later."

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

Amazingly enough, I enjoyed learning the non-obscene hand gesture with Iggy and Gaz; it was stacking fists on top of each other and then raising them in the air. Since both of them wanted to rehearse one last song before leaving the CME Entertainment building, Dad took this opportunity to take me up to the top floor and find the president.

Once in the elevator, I lifted up my arms and took in a whiff of my armpits. Ugh, the essence of sweat when you're under incredibly nasty amounts of pressure was devastating to the nose. I really needed to take a shower when I was back…at my new house.

"I'm so glad you pulled off your singing voice so well, Max," Dad said, smiling faintly. "I thought that I was going to have to save you from being embarrassed and caught that you're Ari's twin sister, not Ari himself." I sighed. "Well, Dad…there are some things in life that a girl just has to do on her own. One of those things is changing her pads when Mother Nature drops a visit and…" I wrapped an arm around Dad's shoulder. "…Saving her dad from getting fired from his job by chopping off her locks."

Dad's eyes softened a lot. Did I happen to see some tears spurting out? Aw man, I wasn't in much of a mushy mood to comfort Dad at the moment. Wiping his tears away quickly, the elevator bell rang and we arrived at the top floor of CME Entertainment.

"Jeb, is that you? Come on in." I heard a woman's voice call out from afar. I think I'm having another WTF moment (Twice in a day! This is so very unhealthy), but Dad started to blush. It's not that hard to tell whether Dad is blushing or not, 'cause when he does, he looks like a totally ripe strawberry.

"Come on, Ari, you have to meet the president." Dad muttered under his breath as we walked out. Walking down that hallway, I caught a glimpse of the President brewing up some herbal tea on the counter opposite her mahogany desk, with an insanely AWESOME looking computer screen perched on it!

The dang President still didn't turn away from the stove. Come on! We're the guests! Just greet us and ignore your freaking tea! And even if it does boil over and a fire starts…well…SDI (She deserves it) for brewing up tea in the first place. I know…I read too many FMLs…

"Dang, Prez, you must really love tea," I commented, crossing my arms over my chest. The waist-length copper-orange haired president whirled around, and I was completely taken aback by her "beauty that has captivated Dad". I mean this…non-seriously.

The hair colour was gone completely wrong for her skin type, and I mean, I don't think anybody can really pull off bright orange hair unless you're that girl from the first season of Pokémon or even Christina Ricci. And that MOLE on her PHILTRUM with that…tiny piece of black hair growing out of it…and raccoon eyes…really makes me sick.

Consider yourself lucky since your eyes are still completely normal.

The President smiled at me, and then – carrying her tray of tea back to her desk – she motioned for Dad and I to sit in front of her desk while she sat comfortably in that black leather rolling chair. "Welcome, Ari Ride, to CME Entertainment. My name is Marian Jassen, and I hope you will contribute your musical talents and assets to your new group, One Winged Angel."

I will continue to contribute your musical talents and assets to One Winged Angel if this forty-year-old lady manages to put a paper bag over her head…

"Um, hello, Prez," I greeted casually. "Um…skipping the formal introductions, I really gotta say this: You need to have someone come in and fix that sign. If you know your vocabulary, Entertainment is spelt with an 'E', not an 'I'.

"Very well, Ari," President Marian said, keeping her cool. I must say though, this woman has strong patience for girls…I mean…guys like me. Reaching into her desk cabinet, she pulled out a thick manual, in which she wrote, "**Ari Ride – Schedule**" on it with a black sharpie.

"Here is your schedule for the week. You will notice that for the first day, meaning tomorrow, the press will be arriving from different entertainment magazines and tabloids across the country to interview you. Later on, we will celebrate your arrival at a high class club that I privately own."

And blah, blah, blah, blah was all I heard for the rest of the fifteen minute meeting. She really didn't have to explain all that to me...the last time I checked, I could read. "Jeb?" Marian called out towards him, and my dad sat with rapt attention, completely erect everywhere…but not in that area, thank goodness.

"You will be taking care of Ari well? Please give him a copy of the key to his new home. I have a present for you, Ari." She said, smiling faintly. Curiously, I stand up and look at the black box and gasp very, very loudly. _**Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! **_IT'S THE TOTALLY NEW CYON ICE-CREAM CELLPHONE, AND IT'S IN MY FAVOURITE COLOUR TOO, WITH SO MANY DIFFERENT FEAT-

_SHUT IT MAX! IF YOU GUSH ABOUT YOUR NEW PHONE IN FRONT OF THE PREZ, OUR COVER IS GOING TO BE BLOWN!_

Sadly, I had to regain my posture and thanked Marian. "Thank-you, Prez." I think I might be getting a little dizzy, but I felt Marian smile at me a little bit too…warmly for my own taste…AND to add that she grazed my HAND when I went to pick up the box featuring my ultra-cool new cellphone!

Dad puts a hand on my shoulder. "We need to get home, Ari." Saying our final good-byes to President Marian, we exited toward the elevator and closed the door.

* * *

Marian waited impatiently for their footsteps to die, and when she heard the elevator door close, she clicked on her Documents icon on her desktop. Finally, she continues to click towards her Artists folder, and finds a new file for Ari Ride. Opening up his profile, she stares longingly toward the picture and lightly touches the screen.

"Someday…" Marian said dreamily. "I'll make you…_mine."_

* * *

"Shut up, Dad. You cannot be serious that this villa is…One Winged Angel's!"

This 3,500 square foot beauty was…beautiful. A beach-like exterior, and neutral colours such as grass green, sky blue, lavender, dove white were the colours I managed to catch a glimpse of inside the villa, giving off a spa-like vibe.

I ran up the wooden plank stairs towards the glass doors, with an egg shell white border. Opening it, I walked in, took off my shoes and inhaled the sweet scent of lemon. The gleaming and spotless kitchen was painted a sky blue colour, with two sinks and several counters and SO many cabinets painted the same egg shell white colour.

Living room with a flat screen plasma television, several love seats and sofas surrounding the oak coffee table was…oh my God, a dream come true. Now I would describe the entire house to you, but I'm just having way too much fun exploring it myself! Maybe I'll describe MY room to you later.

"Da-I mean, Jeb! This place is awesome!" I called out, but no one replied. Ack! I face-palmed myself, realizing that I still had five bags worth of clothing and shoes to carry up to my new room, and I completely forgot about it!

I skipped down the steps, and watched as Dad tried to heave everything up in one go. Rolling my eyes, I was about to go down and help him when I watched a sleek-looking black convertible pull up on the driveway.

It was…Fang?

I hid behind a large fern plant, and kept my eyes on Fang. Noticing that Dad needed some help, he offered to carry up some of my valuables into the house. So this guy DOES have a heart…

I noticed that Fang walked up the other pair of wooden plank stairs that led to a practice room, once again cluttered with mikes, stands and sheet music. Since Dad was now staring at the huge dent I made in the car door earlier, I could easily creep behind him and follow Fang.

I watched from outside as Fang took off his shoes and then, dragging all of my stuff on the floor, and disappear into the hallway leading into the kitchen. Since there was a pair of stairs there (I don't know how to describe them, but they look REALLY cool like they're not supported by anything and just floating by themselves), I would've thought that he might have taken it upstairs.

So I crept inside and listened for the footsteps up a pair of stairs.

There were none.

I looked into the kitchen hallway to find Fang stashing my newly-bought clothes and shoes into the humongous refrigerator. "I hope you don't find your clothes, Ari Ride." He murmured, smirking slightly.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I shrieked at him, nearly giving him a heart attack. God, I wish I had. Fang jumped on the spot, yet he didn't seem to be ashamed that I caught him in his extremely nasty act. And to also add…I take my heartfelt compliment about him back.

Right now, it was no time for fun and games though. "Why are you putting my clothes into the fridge?" I asked angrily. Yup, blood was boiling in my veins at the moment. Fang crossed his arms over his chest. "Why? The answer is simple, Ari Ride…because I don't like you. I dislike you for many reasons, but one of the things that I hate about you the most is that you're…"

I cocked my head to one side.

And that was all that it took for Fang to shut his yap. "Ugh, forget it. Just get out of my sight."

Just as he was about to walk up the stairs, I tugged on his jacket sleeve. "You still haven't answered my question!" I shouted.

"Get your grubby hands off of my jacket!"

"Well, you tell me why you're doing this! And I don't want a stupid excuse such as 'I don't like you'! You need to at least give me a freaking reason!"

"Why should I?"

"Because…well…"

I must admit: Good question…and I couldn't reply with a great comeback at the moment since my mind was going blank.

I looked up at Fang, who raised his eyebrows with an "I told you so" look surfaced on his face. I released his jacket, but still, I wasn't ready to put off this fight.

When he was standing at the flight of the stairs, I sprinted up and literally tackled him into an open bedroom. I'm guessing it was his bedroom since it was pretty much the largest room out of the other ones on the same floor…and there was a poster of himself tacked onto the wall.

Woooow, talk about being self-centered.

I guess my attack came off a WEE bit too strong…and since I didn't realize there was a short flight of stairs to reach his coffee table, we rolled down, and I swear, I could feel my bones banging against the steps.

"**Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, OW!**" I screeched…all the way until we reached the hardwood floor.

And that was when I realized four things:

I opened up my eyes to be staring right at the beetles. In fact, the beetles were only like…what…a centimetre away?

And it was right then and there that something soft had collided onto my lips.

Third of all, if things could not get any worse, Iggy, Gaz and Dad had appeared at the doorway at THAT particular moment to see what all the commotion was. Their expression was not pretty, especially Gazzy, who was making a puking noise along with his disgusted look.

It felt like hours, days…even months before the groggy and slightly knocked-out Fang could realize what was happening. Trust me, those ten seconds seemed to pass by forever. **FOR-EV-ER.**

Supposedly, Fang would be kissing a pair of female lips, but since I, (For the time being) was forced to step into my immature twin brothers' shoes, he was logically kissing an eighteen-year-old young man.

Some first day it was turning out to be, huh?

* * *

**Teeheediheehee. Yes, Max and Fang kissed! (Not really kiss, more like...fell onto each others' lips) So anyways, this concludes Chapter 3 of My Fair Lady. I really gotta say my thanks and give my readers shout-outs!**

**Shout-Outs To:**

**Netsrik10  
KC  
ShadowDweller97  
SallSall  
RandomAsRainbows  
OceanButterflyFlyAway  
fangsgirl2  
musichun9  
Jaggedwing-moonstreak  
snowflakelhf  
Jedi Knight Siri Tachi  
****sela97  
BlueButterfliesPlayOnMyGuitar  
FallenSnowAngel5297  
Call Me Bitter  
moonagent  
Blastedpyro**

**And...**

**MidNyteMelody (Mel) **

**(I'm sorry! I remembered I put your name on this list but it didn't show up on the chapter! I replaced it now, because I remembered you reviewed for me! And to answer your question, you're right: Max still has a girlish voice but it's deep enough that it can go as a guy's voice too.)**

**Want to add your name to the list? Drop by and pop me a review if you're interested in reading! To those listed above:**

**I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!**

**I think I won't be updating as much next week, but I will promise to get at least Chapter 4 (and maybe a sneak preview of Chapter 5) in! See you guys later!**

**Luff,**

**Sam C:**


	4. Chapter 4

****

Hey guys! I cannot believe that we've already reached 35 reviews! Just maybe a week ago, we were at 20! I'm glad that you guys enjoy reading My Fair Lady, and I will continue to do my best. I thought I would clarify up a few things in this Author's Note though, because many of you are wondering if Fang and Max kissed or not, or was it accidental, so here they are!

**To MidNyteMelody - You're right. Max does have a girls' voice that is deep enough to be a guy's. XD Haha, sorry if I didn't clarify that!  
To Ari (Your nickname is awesome!) - Fang is a lot nicer than that guy from You're Beautiful [Jang Geun Suk! XD], but because Fang has a nicer personality than his, no, Fang won't be as mean as him. C:  
To sela97 - It wasn an accidental kiss! XD  
To KC - I have nooo idea! XP Haha, I guess the only thing I can say is...keep reading and you'll discover what happens in the future! C:  
To bookworm - Haha same as above. You'll see what happens soon! C:  
To Netsrick10 - Same as above! C: You'll find out! And no worries!  
To SallSall - Haha, maybe! He's not suspicious of it yet, but just knows that Max has a really rash personality.  
To Jaggedwing-moonstreak - Actually, Fang doesn't have a thing for guys, unfortunately, not yet. The kiss was accidental. XDD**

To all - Thank-you so much for reviewing again! You guys rock, and I love all of you!

**Fang - I LOVE SAM!  
Iggy - Why? Just a couple days ago, you said you detested her!  
Fang - Yeeah, but...she's making me nice.  
Sam C: - Nice...er.  
Angel - Okay, so James Patterson owns all of us! Not Sam C:, just the characters from the book Maximum Ride.  
Sam :C - Tha sucks! I wanna be a bird kid too!  
****

* * *

**

Sigh. Kissing. It's one of the most difficult and complex things that members of the opposite sex can do. There are so many different and hard ways to kiss, such as the butterfly kiss, the most disgusting candy kiss, the overrated French kiss, and the list goes on and on. In fact, kissing can further into something more if they were in a relationship. It can blow up into an intense make out session, or even better yet, steamy, messy things in the bedroom.

In my case…?

None of the above was part of my available options. If my outer appearance resembled a girl, then the kiss (Or as I would describe it: "An obdurate tumble, which eventually lead to a smacker on the orifices") wouldn't have been so awkward. After all, logically speaking, the leader of One Winged Angel was currently kissing a member of the SAME sex. Woo, talk about irony.

When Fang practically fell on my lips, I was shocked, flabbergast, stunned, dazed and the list continues to go on. Since he was WAY too heavy for my tastes, I couldn't push him off. And of course, the rest of the dynamic trio, my "helpful" Dad included, wouldn't do anything but just WATCH the two helpless young adults at the doorway.

Ten looooong seconds flew by…and eventually…

"**WHAT THE EFF-YOU-SEA-KAY IS THIS?**" was the first thing I heard from the beetle-eyed bugger that was practically sprawled out on top of **MY** body. He immediately got up and ran to his bathroom, getting out the Listerine from the cabinet underneath the sink and rinsing his mouth for at least five minutes; while I lay on the floor, beating myself up inside for obtaining new scratches and cuts on the palms of my hands.

Fang spit, and he came out, his expression was horrified.

"I…I…no…no…you…you…can't…can't…**KISS**!"

As a girl at heart, I couldn't really complain or say anything. I…enjoyed our accidental kiss, to be honest.

And it was REALLY obvious that Fang wasn't.

Don't believe me? Get this.

Wiping his mouth, Fang's beetle eyes narrowed towards me and he glared at me. "You're going to pay for this. I want ALL of you out of my room, I need time to think." Then, taking a few steps towards me, he grabbed a fistful of my shirt (Thank goodness he grabbed a fistful of the shirt near my NECK, not my chest) and hissed like a raging cat, "You better watch your step around here, Ari Ride, 'cause things are going to get a lot more complicated around here than just frozen clothes."

And that was that; for the time being anyway. In the meantime (While Fang shut himself in his room), Iggy and Gazzy went back to their separate rooms to "organize their socks". Organize their socks my BUTT. I bet it was they were afraid I was going to tackle them and kiss them, like I just recently did to Fang.

So here I was, left alone with my very pissed off-looking Dad. Without saying a word, his stoic poker-face turned into a rampant and furious-looking tomato. Pointing downstairs, he (With his angry dragon eyebrows) mouthed, "We're going to have a serious talk, young lady."

Rolling my eyes, I followed him down the ultra-cool stairs (I can walk up and down these babies forever, literally, just 'cause they're so cool-looking) and into the kitchen. "Sit." He ordered with his voice still furious. "I know, Dad, I know. My fault. I wasn't thinking, and I just decided to tackle Fang and we ended up…kissing. It's not my fault he has bad reflexes! And in my defense, I did a pretty good football tackle there too."

"You ALMOST blew your cover, once again, Max! Do you not care about your fathers' job? God, if I knew you were going to be so troublesome, I wouldn't have asked you to impersonate Ari in the first place." He scolded, pounding the table with his fist.

Golly gee, if only he would pound harder, then I think the Gasman would come running down, screaming for his dear life that there was a 7.0 magnitude earthquake happening.

I directed my hands and arms toward the bulging refrigerator that (currently) still held my poor, dear, freezing clothing. Come on! The guy was being a total dick towards me (And my new clothes and shoes!) Couldn't Dad at least offer a TINY AMOUNT of dang sympathy to his daughter, who was risking her supposed vacation AND good tanning weather to save his butt from being fired?

Yeah, it was NEVER going to happen, my friends.

"Dad! You didn't know what he was doing! Fang put my new threads and footwear in the REFRIGERATOR! And I heard him say something along the lines like…'I hope you don't find your clothes, Ari Ride!' How can I just let some asshole do this to me? You know my personality, I got to fight for my own rights!" I complained furiously.

Dad narrowed his eyes, turned his head towards the refrigerator and then back at me. "So what if he did? Fang's a dick, I know, but you're not Max anymore. You're Ari fothermucking Ride, and as Ari fothermucking Ride, you cannot go around giving young males head butts like you do back in Washington!"

"So what?" I was literally screaming now, and then Dad clamped his hand against my mouth. "MMPHF! Get your DIRTY hands off of me, Dad!"

Dad's face was getting redder and redder by the minute, putting such an innocent ripe tomato to shame. But I'm a good girl, so I'm going to pay attention to avoid the risk of delivering Dad to the emergency room for a (possibly fatal) heart attack. For now, anyway. "Fine…I guess I'll listen. But you should've seen that horrible egotistical look on his face!"

"Max, I understand your anger! But you do need to realize…you probably caused some major trauma on Fang because of that accidental kiss."

I cocked my head to one side and shrugged. "So what? He should be grateful that anybody wants to kiss HIM, even if it's a guy."

Dad face-palmed himself. "That's the problem, Max! He…he cares a LOT to his sexual orientation!"

O-kay. The conversation and scolding seemed fine…up until this point.

"Did you not know that?" Dad looked incredulous; I bet he didn't know that one of my habits is that I hardly read any gossip or entertainment magazines, which probably meant I was not informed of Fang's sensitivity towards his sexuality. He has been accused of liking **MEN**, and this embarrassing news has been on the tabloids before because Fang was once caught 'on a date with another male star'!"

I snorted. "Who on this God forsaken earth would like a jerk, namely him?" Dad sighed. "Justin Bieber." The news wouldn't have affected me much, but because I was drinking a glass of water, I spit ALL of the liquid into Dad's face, who was now soaking wet from hair down to the neck up.

Then, I went on with my snorting and laughing, and I'll also add that some water ended up spurting out of my nose.

"Max, stop **GIGGLING!**" Dad cried, gripping my right arm. I held up my left and ordered him to stop, like those traffic directors from the 1940s. "Alright, alright, I got it Dad! I won't ever try to arouse Fang again, and I'll act more…boyish from now on. You've gotta cut me some slack though, Dad. I mean, don't you realize how hard it is…" I dropped my voice to nothing but a low whisper. "To be a girl living 24/7 with guys, and you have to be a guy yourself! I promise that I'll control my behaviour, all right? Happy?"

"You better promise me that, Max."

"It's **ARI**, Daddy dumplings."

"Whatever!"

_**(Iggy's Point of View)**_

I decided to escape the awkwardness of listening to Ari's (Most possibly) redundant explanation as to why he and Fang were engaging in a lip lock, so I used the excuse of "organizing my socks" in my room. Gazzy, being the amazing copier of One Winged Angel, also used my excuse of organizing socks and hustled into his room. Just a moment later, Gazzy crept into my room, with an unknown expression on his face (Twenty bucks if it looked disturbed!).

I was right; hand over the twenty bucks!

Gazzy started to shake my shoulder violently. "Stop it please, Gazzy, can't you see I'm trying to organize my socks?"

_Shake, shake, shake._

"Gazzy…please stop."

_Shake, shake, shake…even harder this time._

"**GAZZY, STOP IT!**"

When the shaking subsided, I turned to Gazzy, who was sitting cross-legged on my right. "What's wrong, Gaz?"

Gazzy's voice lowered to nothing but a whisper. I had to literally press my ear against his mouth to listen to what he has to say. "I think Ari is gay."

First things first, I HATE how spit went flying into my ear. Great, time to get out the hand sanitizer and use the entire bottle to wipe my ear (And part way through my ear canal too). Hopefully, my ear drum didn't get attacked by the nasty, flying spit of the Gasman.

"What makes you say that?" I raised one eyebrow, and then I slowly got up to put a CD into my stereo to drone out the yelling that was coming from downstairs. "Because he kissed Fang, that's why! Did you see their position? It was like…a Fang sandwich squished on top of an Ari sandwich, and the GASMAN does NOT enjoy seeing male-male sexual interactions, especially kissing."

"Of course, Gazzy," I replied sarcastically. "Obviously I saw their position, and not only that, I saw them making out on the carpet!" Gazzy sighed. "But I'm serious, Iggy! Something suspicious is going on between those two! You saw their reactions towards each other when they first met! And look what happened in Fang's room now! Trouble is brewing in our little Los Angeles home! Drama, I tell you! **DRAMA IS BREWING, MAN!**"

I hate to admit it, but the Gasman can be quite the drama queen sometimes. I think it's because of all those stupid pre-teen shows he watches, and then he gets so engrossed into their plots. It was our fault though; we wanted Gazzy to quit watching cartoons, but…really…it was a bad idea. In fact, Gazzy got SO hyped up when Miley Stewart told Jake Ryan she was Hannah Montana; he nearly chucked the remote control at the television screen. He's getting better now; we unsubscribed to Disney Channel and got him to continue watching the show about that…talking aardvark and his rabbit friend.

Actually, I wasn't really paying attention to Gazzy. The shrieking from downstairs just got louder and louder, and right now; even Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat were failing to keep me from going crazy because of the wild crap happening downstairs.

"Do you think I should go and question Ari? I think that's a good idea. I can probably force some answers out of him if I use the water sprinkler and duct tape him to a tree." I snickered. Oh, the things Gazzy gets from watching too much television…

"Uh, hold that thought. I'm going to go downstairs and check out what's happening downstairs." I informed him as I got up to turn off the stereo.

"Okay, but in the meantime, could I try on your clothes? I think I had a growth spurt, and if I'm about your size and your height, then I can finally get Fang and Manager Jeb to buy me some new clothes." I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Go ahead."

Opening the door was when I realized how loud Ari and Manager Jeb were fighting. Closing the door behind me so Gazzy wouldn't get alarmed and run out in his embarrassing Batman boxers, I crept towards the banister and listened closely.

Someone was GIGGLING downstairs? Oh my…Goodness. Maybe Gazzy was right and Ari does have a questionable sexual orientation…

"Max, stop giggling!" Hold up. Back up…who the hell is named **Max**? Wasn't it just…Manager Jeb and Ari having a little shouting showdown from the bottom floor?

"All right, all right, I got it Dad! I won't ever try to arouse Fang again, and I'll act more…boyish from now on. You've gotta cut me some slack though, Dad. I mean, don't you realize how hard it is…" _Go on…Ari…if that IS your real name. _But from then on, I couldn't hear anything except for a few whispers, and (If my ears are deceiving me), "Esperigaduohrerererer…girl…24/7…guy…" I instantly froze, and then raised my eyebrows. A girl?

Preposterous and IMPOSSIBLE!

…

_At least…I hope it is impossible._

_

* * *

_

**(Fang's Point of View)**

After that blasted fool and the rest of the members and Manager Jeb scampered out before I took a broomstick and shooed them out, I rushed off to my bathroom (Once again) and literally squeezed out all of the toothpaste into my mouth and started to brush furiously, for at least ten minutes until my gums started to bleed.

Ugh! Who did Ari think he was? Okay, so I guess I'll say I am being a slight dick towards him, but I was going to take his clothes out and then (If they were so ultimately frozen) I'd put the clothes on the patio to defrost!

I slowly walked out of the washroom and collapsed onto my bed, pulling the sheets over my head. I felt sick and nauseous to my stomach. If you must know, one of my pet peeves is being mistaken for…being in love with the same sex.

I mean, those nosy and extremely annoying news reporters had to classify me as "gay" because I was, what, having a coffee with my good friend, Justin Bieber!

Sometimes, I honestly hate being a celebrity. You can't do this, and you can't do that, and you're restricted to SO MANY THINGS. And the best part is…if you're out caught doing something normal-acting celebrities normally wouldn't do, well, you're pretty much caught in the news reporters' grasp since they can make up any story just by a simple picture. I'm being sarcastic, by the way.

Thank God there were no reporters or photographers around our house though. It's pretty well-concealed with thick trees and shrubs and stuff, and Gazzy usually sets up booby traps around our lawn (Automatic sprinklers and stuff like that), so we're pretty sheltered and safe.

Now that I was lying in bed with my ears being covered by my new "beats by Dr. dre" headphones, I was giving time to finally think. Crossing my arms over my chest, I started to play back that awful memory of being tackled by that man of a subway train and then, groggily, I flopped onto that…that imbecile's lips.

Hmmm…but now that I think about it…it was certainly a better smooch than any of the other ones I've had with past girlfriends. Ari's lips were moist and weren't overdone with lip balm…I…hatefully confess to liking that accidental kiss with Ari…

_GOD, WHAT AM I SAYING? FANG, YOU'VE GOT TO GET A GRIP ON YOURSELF! THAT WAS A HORRIBLE KISS! IT WAS DREADFUL, HORRID, AND TERRIBLE! ARI'S LIPS WERE CRACKED AND COVERED IN COLD SORES! THAT'S HOW BAD THE KISS WAS!_

And pulling the covers over my head, I let Fall Out Boy soothe me to Dream Land. Hopefully, I won't have any dreams of Ari…or any dreams about kissing…or (better yet) no dreams at all!

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

Since Fang didn't come down for dinner (Or refused to), and Gazzy and Iggy decided to head out to Downtown to eat dinner with Dad, I had to fend for myself so I wouldn't starve. After making myself a BLT sandwich, I headed upstairs to see that Fang's room still remained closed.

I snorted. Like I said, Fang didn't have enough balls to face me after our little accident! If he were a real man, he would at least come down to the kitchen to get something to eat to hide that grumbling from his stomach, instead of shutting himself in his room.

Now that I think about it…the poor guy might be starving right now. I mean, I'm usually a rough tomboy, but I do worry and care about people. And that was when I thought of an amazingly stupendous idea that I would put to work, right after I used my hand-me-down computer. Instead, I went off to my room, sat in my new leather rolling chair (Oh so comfortable!), and turned on my computer.

Sadly, this computer was one of Gazzy's hand-me-downs (While he was enjoying his 25 inch Apple flat computer screen!), but it worked just as fast…except for…the pizza stain on the right corner. Thank God: No mushrooms growing ON the mushrooms.

Going onto my favourite search engine, I started to type in "Fang's Profile". And obviously, there was a lot of information and websites to sift through, from…a brand of dog food to the jaw structure of a grizzly bear. Strange…Google has failed me today. Or maybe it's because I pressed on the "I'm Feeling Lucky" button. Clearly, today was definitely not my lucky day. What irony.

Dude, you know what, I should've just gone on One Winged Angel's official website. That would help me more than just a few sentences like, "My dog Fang loves to eat kibble and nice fresh liver for breakfast, and then he would take a nice jog in the forest and poop near his favourite pine tree! I don't pick it up, because his manure would help the trees!"

Pft. Yeah, right. Like the actual Fang taking a snooze in his bedroom right now would love to eat kibble and liver in a bright-red dog dish.

When I got on, unfortunately for me, the website was under maintenance. DAMNIT! I wonder who would try to sabotage the website in my deepest time of need…oh right…it's me…or I mean…Ari. But thinking quickly, I knew that plenty of rabid "fang"girls (Heh heh, I'm funny right? Yeah, totally…) would probably upload his information onto Facebook celebrity pages or even just random fan sites dedicated to One Winged Angel.

It took at least twenty minutes since I wasn't the greatest technology chick known to man-kind, and I bet it's because of the pizza stain that my computer froze for five minutes. Finally, I got onto something useful:

**One Wing. Two Years of Hard Work. Three Dreams.  
The Official Fan Page for One Winged Angel**

Most of the articles discussed within these forums were my new arrival. I didn't bother reading them though; who has time for the criticism when they haven't even seen me perform yet? Yeah, I've seen what insane fan chicks could do: Bash you for a full week, and then love you the next, then some scandal pops up between you and a random lady that you had a drink with and **BAM**, front pages and hate comments and Internet battles everywhere: YouTube, Facebook, fan pages…you name it.

Ah, something useful (Finally): Get to know Fang, The Extremely Hot and Talented Leader of One Winged Angel. Are you serious? Hot and talented? More like disgusting and talentless…and to think, this guy got 2,790 topics on his forum with around a whopping 90, 000 hits, while only Iggy and Gasman got approximately 1, 284 topics with 75, 000 hits.

From Fang's forum, I had to sift through all of the topics. He wasn't in "Does Fang have a girlfriend? Who is his ideal girl?" (He said he has no ideal girl; and that loving someone is based on seeing a person imperfectly perfectly. Way to use a romance quote to woo all of your fans, Fang.) He wasn't in "Does Fang abuse Iggy and the Gasman?" That was when I finally decided to jump to the last page, since his profile would probably be the first topic they had created on the One Winged Angel fan page.

FINALLY! THERE IT WAS!

**One Winged Angel – Get To Know Fang!**

Within the fifteen minutes, I learnt that Fang's real name was Nicholas (Last name unknown); his birthday is on September 1st, 1990, and that he will turn 20 this year; he is the lead vocalist and the leader of One Winged Angel; he can play the acoustic guitar really well; he has no ideal girl (No duh!); he likes to play sports and be active…blah blah blah…AH YES! FINALLY!

…

Wow, the guy is pretty particular, I gotta say.

He likes to eat a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich with the crusts cut off for breakfast and a smoothie made with half a banana and a cup full of strawberries and 2% milk, then for lunch he likes to eat penne Bolognese with mozzarella cheese sprinkled on top with turkey meatballs, with a bowl of strawberries after, then for dinner he eats…

You have got to be kidding me…

A bowl of strawberries and two pieces of fried chicken breast on top of a buttered piece of Italian bread toasted to the right amount (The right amount meaning…WHAT? Seven minutes of toasting with the oven at 450 degrees? He doesn't even give particular instructions, so how the hell am I supposed to know what the "right amount" is!), adding fresh greens and lettuce and then flattened against by another piece of buttered bread.

Number one, Fang's got an obsession with strawberries, and second…HE'S PICKY!

Oh well…

I stretched out my fingers. Oh, the satisfaction of listening to my knuckles crack.

I'll do my best!

* * *

Well…the chicken breast and lettuce sandwich doesn't look THAT bad.

At least the strawberries are normal-looking enough…

Once I had everything settled on a plastic tray (I left the oily mess in the sink since I was too lazy to clean up), I glanced at the oven clock, which read "7:05 PM". Great! It only took me…around…um…half an hour to make…a…chicken sandwich…

I brought it up to Fang's door and knocked on the door with my foot. "Open up!" I called. A minute later (My arms were aching), Fang appeared at the door, and when he saw me, he started to back up, a frightful expression on his face. Rolling my eyes, I said, "I'm not going to tackle you again, Fang."

"Fine…come in."

This was when I finally got a good look in his room; painted white with a few posters of him and One Winged Angel tacked on; a king-sized bed; desk and computer screen; guitars and sheet music tossed around on the wooden floor; coffee table and evil flight of stairs that caused me to kiss Fang accidentally…

"What's on the tray?" He asked suspiciously, walking closer towards me and taking in a big sniff. His expression that appeared after looked repulsive. To me…anyway. Damn, has my cooking not improved since I made that cake for Mom? My self-esteem started to plummet. I absolutely hate it when people comment on my cooking. It's not that I can't take the constructive criticism…but it was because of how my relatives often say, "Why didn't your daughter get your talent in cooking?"

"Er…um…well…" I stuttered. God damnit, this should not happen! Why was I stuttering? Why? Why me? Why of all people was I stuttering when I usually don't have a speech problem?

"Stop your stuttering and just tell me." He replied, annoyed. "I might be a dick, but I know…" I looked up and he turned away, his right cheek flushing with colour. "That you tried your best to make food for me."

I glanced at him, raising my eyebrows. Then he yanked the tray away from me and turned away. "I was going to make dinner for myself later anyway…" He muttered to himself. I rolled my eyes. _You didn't step out of your room for at least two hours, buddy._ "But I made it for you…so uh…" I walked towards his door and just before exiting, I said, "Enjoy."

Then I disappeared off into my room.

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View) **_

After he exited, I glanced down at the food before me. Okay, so I have to admit that it didn't look appetizing, but judging from what had happened earlier, it was nice of Ari to make me dinner. Slightly overdone and burnt toast on top of wet greens and overly cooked chicken breast…and my favourite strawberries…

Did Ari actually go onto the fan page to check what I liked to eat? I quickly logged onto my computer, waiting oh-so-patiently for the computer screen to load and went onto One Winged Angel's fan page. Clicking onto my forum (So to speak), I went to the last page of the numerous lists of topics and then...

**One Winged Angel – Get To Know Fang!**

There was only one new comment on my profile topic.

_Anonymous wrote:_

_Why the hell is Fang so god damn picky? And how in the world are we supposed to know what "toasted to the right amount" means anyway? And his crazy mania with strawberries…_

_Posted: Today, at 6:35:01 P.M._

I smirked, and then glancing down at the sandwich, I took a bite.

Huh…it wasn't as bad as I thought it would turn out to be.

* * *

**Chapter 4 ends right here! What did you think? I thought it was a tad bit too long :C I'm sorry! But like always, please read and then review to tell me what you think!  
Chapter 5 might come this week too. So keep a look out! In the meantime, thank-you once again to those who have reviewed, and I'm sorry for causing some confusion from the previous chapter! **

**I love you guys! C: C: And see you soon!**

**Luff,**

**Sam C:**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! It's Sam C: here! I just want to say thank-you SO MUCH for the reviews! Wee, we've reached the 40s! Only 9 more to get to my ultimate goal! XD Haha, but either way, thank-you SO SO much! You guys are amazing, I love you guys, and you have no idea how happy I get just from reading your reviews or whenever my MSN pops up, "You have just received an e-mail from "! Haha, so anyways, this is Chapter 5. Wee! This chapter is a bit longer than most: 12 pages! I've definitely blew my record! XD So anyways, I wanted to send out some shout-outs for the people who reviewed both Chapter 3 and 4! (Shout-outs, again, are listed at the bottom! I hope I don't forget anyone this time!)**

**Sam C: - Yay! New chapter!  
Max - It took you really REALLY long though...  
Fang - Longer than Gasman taking his monthly bubble bath...  
Gasman - Fizzy balls REALLLLLY exfoliate your skin!  
Iggy - Uh, uh, uh, we're on Fanfiction live, Gazzy! I don't think it's a great idea that you say "fizzy balls really exfoliate your skin"! And with emphasis on the REALLY!  
Nudge - Sam C: owns My Fair Lady, but sadly does not own the plot to You're Beautiful or the beloved characters of Maximum Ride!  
Angel - Let's get on with the story!**

* * *

That night (After Dad had his angry toddler fit because I didn't wash the dishes); I listened for all of the members and Dad to get to sleep. Once they were (Around midnight, perfect!), I decided to Skype with Ari.

Since I couldn't use my old cellphone to Skype (I didn't know what Dad with my luggage; I hope he actually hid it in his room so I wouldn't lose my only souvenir to remind me of my former self, Maximum Ride), I had to register with my new Cyon Ice-Cream cellphone. Ah! It's soo pretty! It's so sleek and shiny and oh-so-cute! Downloading Skype onto Gazzy's old computer took an infuriatingly long time, but this was when I took the time to examine the features on my phone.

My background was a provocative photo of the Prez, her nails dragging down her shirt to show an excessive amount of cleavage. **IT BURNED MY EYES MAN! IT BURNED TERRIBLY!** If you haven't guessed already, my contact list was filled with the necessary people: Home, Dad, Fang, Iggy, Gasman, pizza delivery, Emergency…and…oh…great…a contact named…The Hottest Prez You'll Ever Meet, including the cellphone number, the home phone and the work phone along with the extension line.

I hope it's never open, and I hope she never calls. And I also don't really look into my photo album (Already filled with 40 pictures)…I could already guess what the pictures were. So anyways, Skype was finished downloading, and I decided to do a video call with Ari. I put on my headset, and then waited…waited…waited for a couple seconds before…

"Hang on baby; I gotta take this video call."

My most favourite episode of "**My Name is Ari and Paris Is My Baby-Making Land!**" has officially started! Oh joy. I think I might hurl. I was staring back at my own reflection through the computer screen. It kind of gave me a creepy sense of déjà vu.

"Yo, man," I greeted lazily. Ari raised his eyebrow and then glanced at me. "Whoa…who the hell are you?" I rolled my eyes. "Look! Ari! It's me! The 30 Second Wonder! MAX! It's MAX! ME! YOUR TWIN SISTER!"

"Oh right…"

Finally! I think it's because he did too much baby-making for the week. And for the fact that he's had too many French pastries that might clog his arteries. I'm not going to blame my brother for being groggy and sleepy.

"Hey, Max, what's up?"

"What's up? I'll tell you what's up! I have to impersonate YOU," Intense finger pointing here. "Because I," Another extreme finger pointing session in the taking. "Look exactly just like you and I'm going to be Ari to debut in the music group, One Winged Angel! That is what is up!"

"Look, Max," His voice dropped down to a low whisper and he moved a few inches to the left (On my computer screen, anyway. He would be moving to the right several thousand kilometres away.) On the right of the computer screen, there was this half-naked woman standing and was trying to pull a neon-blue tube top over her head.

"Hey Ari, I can't get it over my head!" No duh, she couldn't get it over her head! The top was two sizes too small for her body! Attempting to pull on an S when you were an L was…just…no…don't even try to go there. I managed to witness it already.

"I love that girl. She's the prettiest, sexiest and most gorgeous woman I have ever set my eyes on." Ari whispered ecstatically to me. "You like her for what? She's so stupid; I bet she thinks that an octagon has eight tentacles!"

"Don't they?" He asked, scratching his head. I groaned pathetically. Ari has such bad taste in women. "The point is…" He continued. "I actually feel chemistry and a…so to speak…a romantic BOND between the two of us. It's like we were MADE for each other. My muscles and her totally slim body…we're the dynamic duo…" I shot him an "I don't freaking care" look. "How many times have you guys slept together?"

"Fourteen, and it was twice a day! Once at night and once in the morning!" I moaned angrily. "Ugh, Ari! What's more important to you? Your twin sister who is risking her LIFE for you or your 'girlfriend' whom you don't know a thing about? Heck, you don't even know the girl's name!"

"I do too! It's uh…" Ari glanced at her, and then shouted, "Hey! Uh, Jessica right?" 'Jessica' smiled foolishly. "It's Francesca!" I shook my head slowly, a smile forming on my face. "Francesca isn't even CLOSE to Jessica. And I saw it coming already." My smile faltered and then I literally shook the computer screen. "Ari, come back to Los Angeles! I came to Los Angeles to relax, not to start a music career!"

"I'm not coming home! I already video-called Mom, and she said she agrees with my relationship with um…Francesca! I just want Dad's approval! He's so uptight. I had to escape from his clutches! Just…hang in there, sis, you can make it. I'm going off to the Eiffel Tower today. I'll video-call you again, okay? Kay, bye!"

"_**Ari, wait!**_"

Too late; he already closed the video call, and I was faced with nothing but a black screen. Damn you, Ari! I think his body creates too much testosterone, and it increases his search for sexual pleasure. I could've introduced him to a random girl on the street, and he could've said the same thing: I feel a bond and chemistry with her!

I sighed, and then switched off the computer's power and went off to bed. I'm praying for Ari and 'Jessica' to break up, but if he continues to pursue his relationship with 'Jessica', then…I guess I'll just have to continue to impersonate him…

…

Damn oxytocins…stupid endorphins…

* * *

The next morning, I awoke to a horrible stench. When I opened my eyes (And stupidly tried to pinch my nose with only one finger), I saw someone's Spiderman boxers dangling in front of me. Even worse, someone was wearing them.

If it couldn't get any worse…

It was Gazzy's butt, and he thought a good wake-up call would be to fart directly in my face. "You are so…going…to get it…" I murmured groggily in my half-asleep half-awake daze. Then I turned so my back was facing Gazzy, and I could easily avoid that Gazzy's digestive gases. "Wake up, sleepy head! Your press conference is in an hour and a half!"

Oh, crap.

Immediately, I jolted up in bed and then scrambled for the washroom. Iggy was just about to enter with a towel perched on his shoulder when I pushed him ever so gently. No way was I going to get rough with the most talented blind drummer!

"Hey, morning, how ya doing? Sorry, I gotta use the bathroom first. It's a gi-...I mean uh…it's a personal guy thing for me." It was my way of a morning greeting. Oh right, and you might have discovered it already, I must be the first one to use the washroom in any household. If not…well…get ready to face a bad breathed, bed headed, ripe-smelled and grumpy-looking Maximum Ride.

"Are you sure you're going to be all right in there? Want me to get some personal hygiene items for you?" Damnit, Iggy! Just let a girl use her washroom with no trouble and let her find her inner zen while inhaling the pleasant vanilla-scented air! Is that too much to ask?

IS IT?

"Uh, NO NO! IT'S OKAY! UH, I'VE GOT IT!"

"Are you sure, Ari? Come on, Ari, just let me into the washroom. I'll help you get your toothbrush and toothpaste and your towel!"

I was practically stripped down to my gauze, so there was no way in hell that I was going to let Iggy enter the washroom, even if he was blind. "No!" The doorknob was turning. "**NO STOP!**" I gripped the doorknob tight. Somehow, through my fingers, I felt a lock. YES! It was my only hope of being able to use the bathroom peacefully! Twisting painfully, I managed to lock the bathroom door.

But things were too easy. Obviously, a knock had to follow after Iggy's overly-warm suggestion to help me find my toiletries. "Yo, Ari, open up. We're all guys here, it's not like we have anything to be ashamed of. And dude, even if you are stripped down to your NOTHING, we're not going to look at ANYTHING. Wear a towel, and let us help you."

It was Fang.

_Well Fang_, I thought bitterly to myself, _I'm not only afraid of letting you see anything "down there". I'm petrified of letting you guys see…_

_EVERYTHING!_

"Move along, boys. Go back to your rooms. Ari's going to be fine, I'll help him." Saved by the voice of Dad! Thank-you God for making my Dad have an insanely complicated occupation as a music band manager.

Knock, knock. "Who's there?" I asked sweetly. Heh, this joke always works on Dad. I swear I could see him give a half-smile, if not a full one. "Dad." "Dad who?" I quickly pulled on my sweatshirt back on and my oversized sweat pants. "Dad is going into the washroom to check how his son is doing?"

I unlocked the door, and Dad managed to creep in before the six pairs of eyes could watch at us curiously. "Why wouldn't you let them in to help you?" He mouthed quietly to me while he rummaged through the wooden cabinets.

"Because I don't want them to see…you know…a girl's things! I mean, it's bad enough that I have to face a disgusting stench in the morning and see two Spiderman butt cheeks popping back at me. I mean, I am technically a tomboy, so I'm not so traumatized by seeing stuff like that. But letting them see ME! My…stuff! A piece of flimsy gauze isn't going to protect everything you know! Those things can develop!"

Dad piled up a nice and comfy forest-green towel, then a navy-blue toothbrush, a tube of Colgate toothpaste, a Mickey Mouse cup, a comb, my Gatsby hair wax and (Get this) pads into my arms. Normally, I would loathe to see a single used tampon in the garbage. Right now though? It was like heaven in a large capsule-like thing around 2 ½ to 3 inches long.

"Now I'm going to stash some of your feminine hygiene items into your room okay? I'll lock it up, and when you need one, tell me and I'll give you the key. If you need to dispose them, then dispose them in good order into the disposal basket I labelled "**RADIOACTIVE MATERIAL**" in your clothing closet." Dad mouthed to me. Something I hadn't noticed before though was the white tuxedo that was perched on Dad's shoulder the entire time.

This is my simile of the day: The tuxedo that was lightly rested on my dear father's shoulders was gleaming so brightly like the first fresh snow fall, which reminded her male-impersonating daughter of ruined Converse sneakers walking through melted brown slush after numerous cars had to run over the beautiful white mess and solidify it.

"You're going to have to wear this for your press conference today. It's going to take place in about an hour or so, so get a move on in the shower." He said out loud, snapping me back into reality. One of things about me and my dad is that when we don't want anybody to eavesdrop on our conversations, we usually mouth our words to each other.

True, true, it's annoying to people AROUND us, but not to us.

Dad walked out and I quickly locked the door again. I heard him say, "Gasman, don't EVER try to put your ear near the door again, and Iggy, look at you! You're a tangled mess! Let me try to straighten out your arms there." And I snickered, knowing that they were trying to eavesdrop on Dad and I, and they had totally failed.

After a ten minute shower (Just because I don't take half an hour in the washroom like those cliques did back in Washington does NOT mean I don't care about my personal hygiene! Besides, I bet the elites spent…what…five minutes in the water and the rest of the time on their make-up), I hurriedly tightened the gauze around my chest again, put on the tuxedo (A little too big and the sleeves a tad bit too long, but still worked in my favour), applied on the Gatsby hair wax and painfully scrunched my hair, brushed, flossed, rinsed and presto!

I was _**Ari Ride**_, the sharpest-looking member of One Winged Angel!

An exasperated groan was heard outside while I tried to fix my bangs. "Who is it?" I asked. "It's…it's…it's…the sound of my bladder BURSTING! GET OUT OF THE BATHROOM RIGHT NOW!"

Oh Gasman…I sighed, chuckling merrily to myself. I opened the door and he rushed in, pulling down his boxers just as he entered the door.

"Enjoy yourself in there!" was the last thing I said before heading down to breakfast.

* * *

Once we reached the lobby of CME Entertainment (The sign was "**fixed**", but really, it looked like someone had placed a large sheet of white paper and drew in the letter E instead), Prez Marian ushered us in, giving me a very warm hello. "You did see the background of your cellphone, right?"

"Of course I did, Prez," I said dully. "And no, if you MUST ask, I was not turned on by it. It's rude, disgusting, and you're going to be responsible for my medical bills if I look at anymore of your nasty crap and get traumatized. Then, you'll be sorry."

Her cheeks flushed with colour, and Dad – being the amazing gentleman that he is – rushed off to the canteen on the 3rd floor to get Prez Marian a wet towel wrapped in ice. Talk about delivering professional maid service 24/7…

"I will not be perturbed by your immature insults," She whispered to me while gripping my shoulder and leading me up the stairs to be seated next to Fang. "You will someday see me as a gorgeous and capable woman, and I will be waiting for that day to come. I have plenty of money and cash, and we will be able to spend it all on a desert island in the future, just us."

Bleargh! How **_disturbing_** could this woman get?

While continually smiling at the press that were snapping photographs, I replied distastefully, "Honestly, do you even own a mirror? Maybe you should use that money to help build houses in 3rd world countries or even better…donate it all to help the environment instead of trying to have fantasies that will never come true."

That shut the Prez's yap, but obviously, she's the type of person that won't give up easily (I can tell by her personality) until she gets what she wants.

As I smiled back eagerly (Forcefully is the best word selection) at the crowd, Fang stared at me from the side impassively. I caught him staring at me, and I turned my head. His expression was impassive,but his mouth twitched upward slightly. "Is there something on my face?" I asked uncertainly, raising my eyebrows.

"No," He replied, looking back at the crowd. But his cheek was lifted; he was smiling.

Finally, the Prez (Unfortunately had to be seated next to me to my disgust) clapped her hands into the microphone and announced, "Welcome, journalists and entertainment news writers! As you all know, for the past month and a half, One Winged Angel has been seeking for a new lead vocalist as the leader, Fang…"

Explosive shouting and screaming from his "fang" girls sounded, who were carrying signs and wearing t-shirts with his face or his name on it. One of the most popular phrases that I've seen on the t-shirts was, "I'm a Fang Girl!" Golly gee, I knew he had a large fan base, but I didn't know it was **THIS** big!

When the yelling finally subsided, the Prez continued on, "Has been abusing his vocal chords, and has been undergoing some voice therapy. While he was doing so, we have been holding numerous auditions for that past month and a half, and we have our newest member." She pushed the microphone towards me. "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

_Oh crap. _I'M NOT PREPARED! I THOUGHT I WOULDN'T HAVE TO SAY ANYTHING AND SIT BACK AND RELAX BUT…

_Okay, calm down, Max…just introduce yourself like how you introduce yourself to a class when you're saying your speech!_

"Um, okay," I stuttered. "Stand up." Fang urged me through his smiling face. "Pft, as if I didn't know to do that," I hissed back.

Okay, truth be told, I didn't want to stand and I didn't know that I was supposed to, but hey, I'll give Fang a mental thanks.

"Um, hey everybody!" I greeted as enthusiastically as I could. The crowd went…lukewarm. I mean, the journalists WERE clapping for me, but the fang girls sneered at me and gave me many, many thumbs-down. Iggy and Gasman's fans helped increase my self-confidence. They welcomed me with ease. Phew!

"My name is Ari Ride," The lie came out easily, I was pretty surprised. "I'm eighteen-years-old, and I'm also One Winged Angel's newest member! I hope that all of you will continually support the group, and support me too since I'm the newcomer! Thank-you for giving me a chance in the group! I promise to every single fan of One Winged Angel to do the best to my ability!"

I quickly handed the microphone back to the Prez, who smiled at me. I faked my grin back at her, and then I glanced down at my trembling hand. Whoo, I got more jitters from this than tackling a senior football player back in Washington! (If you're curious to know, I won by the way.) "Any questions that you may have after the press conference, you may ask me or their manager, Jeb Ride, who is standing by Gasman. We hope that you have a wonderful afternoon!"

When the press conference ended, all hell broke loose. Literally. The fang girls started to crowd around the stage, showering love poems, cards, plushies and stuffed animals, their own masterpieces of hand-sketched portraits of Fang and so many more.

I rolled my eyes as Fang (With his "glittering, charismatic eyes") accepted every gift without a single word. How much room is there in that villa? I mean, I know it's large and has at least 10 rooms (Not counting washrooms and 8 of them are being used as storage), but really…to accept all those gifts is like…

"I bet you're surprised at how many gifts Fang is receiving, right?" A voice sounded behind my back, and I jumped. I whirled around to smile at Iggy, who had manoeuvred his way through the crowd to find me. Really, he looked stunning; a white dress shirt with a faded gray pair of ripped skinny jeans and white Converse sneakers. It's a shame that he doesn't have as many fans as…ergh…Mr. Collector-of-Stuff.

"You bet! Does he honestly collect them all?" Iggy shook his head, rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. "No," He whispered quietly. "Some of them…he would put in his room. The rest…he puts them in the storage rooms. At least one half of the filled rooms are jam-packed with his things."

I laughed. "No wonder Dad told me not to touch those rooms. So anyways," I began slowly while we walked towards Gasman, who was weeping because one of his fans got him an Arthur doll, complete with the yellow sweater and blue jeans. "Are you going to attend the party tonight?"

"Me? Of course, I'm going! I'm celebrating my junior's birthday! How could I not go?" He cried out loud, smiling while wrapping an arm around my shoulder. I chuckled. Man, I don't think I've met a guy more down-to-earth than Iggy. Nicest kid that I've ever got to known!

"Dude, I am SO not my junior," I said, rolling my eyes, though he didn't see. "Whatever, man, I just can't wait to get to the party tonight." He said. But that's when I noticed his hand was just half a centimetre from touching my "flat upper body". "Uh, uh…let's go find Dad! We have to tell him that uh…"

_**CRASH!**_

The Prez dropped her coffee cup on the floor. This is possibly the first AND last time I will ever thank her.

Dad was currently talking to Gazzy, rubbing his back affectionately and saying something like, "It's just an Arthur doll, Gaz!" "The Prez just broke her coffee cup!" I gasped dramatically, and hurriedly ran off to tell Dad.

Saved by the crash and the cracking of the coffee cup, I suppose…

But my real question is: _What in the world was Iggy trying to do?_

* * *

_**(Iggy's Point of View)**_

Damn! I was so close…

I know many of you may call me a pervert for trying to feel a "possible female's" chest, but I didn't know what else I could do! I couldn't just say, "Hey Ari! I heard you and Manager Jeb fighting yesterday, and I was wondering, is your real name Max and are you a girl?"

No! Never, just…no!

I'm REALLY getting suspicious…but maybe everything will turn out to be a mistake, and everything will become crystal clear again…

Hopefully...

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

"Oh, he's so cute!"

"Aw, Ari, you are very adorable! I bet your mother and your father have very lovely facial features! Good genes do make very amazing-looking babies…oh, if only I had nice-looking parents…."

"Such nice and smooth skin! Even I don't have that! If you were a girl, then you'd probably be very attractive-looking!"

_You and me both, sister, _I thought bitterly to myself while I carried a glass of wine in my hand and was smiling uneasily at the swarms of girls that were…well…swarming around me like bees. After the press conference (And answering a ton of questions), it was already late in the afternoon.

Prez Marian decided to drive all of us to her "high class club" to have a celebration party for my entrance to One Winged Angel. Pretty much…everyone was there…

Hair and make-up stylists, Dad, Fang, Gazzy, Iggy, the disgusting Prez who switched her work clothes for some deep V-neck red dress (Red is usually the colour of seduction, I call it "red is the colour of embarrassment for the Prez"), a whole bunch of random-looking girls, a wild group of drunk and sober guys in the corner…

I was hanging around Dad most of the time, and to be honest, I wasn't really enjoying being touched and stroked on the cheek by females, claiming that I have smooth skin like a baby's. I could also spot the Prez **try**ing (Note: Emphasis on the TRY) to urge me to watch her do a "sexy and promiscuous dance" with the use and help of a chair.

I decided to avoid my possible embarrassment of probably hurling out cocktail shrimp just before she tried to dance with those hairy caterpillars on her legs, so (While grabbing a can of beer to make myself look "cool") I decided to escape through the fire exit to the roof of the club to get some fresh air.

…

Eheh…it turns out…that even a couple sips of the dratted beer makes me tipsy…ah, time to go say hello to the sunshine!

* * *

_**(Iggy's Point of View)**_

While I was talking vividly with Gasman and Fang, a very screechy (A mix between Manager Jeb's train whistle snores and a raging, hissing cat) "Fang, honey!" sounded from behind me. Gazzy cringed in fear next to me, gripping my hand tightly.

"I thought you didn't like male-male interactions, Gasman," I said, my voice monotonous while raising our interlocked fingers. "There are special cases when male-male interactions are needed!" His voice dropped down to a whisper. "And when Lissa Gorvorvitch comes, you know I get nightmares when I see her and the only way to calm me down is if I hold hands with you!"

Yup, that's right. Fang's "girlfriend" from another hit female rock group, 4EvAir , showed up. Gazzy has described me to her before; let's just say compared to the Prez, she looks ten times younger, but only two times prettier and minus the indescribably disgusting beauty mark-with-excess-hair-attached.

Right, did I also mention that we call her the "Red-Haired Wonder" because she has a violent shade of fire on her head?

"Oh, Fang, I haven't seen you in such a long time. How have you been?" She asked, trying to make her voice alluring. "I'm fine," Fang replied gruffly, slightly annoyed. I snorted, I can easily tell why. "Why are you acting this way to me? You're so…" I hear a scoff and then a slight whimper. "Rude to me!"

One thing that I absolutely DETEST about Lissa is her "forceful cuteness". I mean, come on, it's not adorable anymore. If you've got the chubby cheeks and the very adorable smile, then go ahead! Like Jackson Stewart has always said, "If ya got it, _**FLAAAAAUNT**_ it!" But **NO**! Lissa Gorvorvitch does **NOT** have the cuteness factor; so therefore, it's like watching a great white shark trying to play with beach balls.

My Puke-O-Meter has reached its full extent. Suddenly, Fang asked worriedly, "Where's Ari? I don't see him around." "What? What? What? Who's Ari? Your new girlfriend? But **FAAANG**, you always that I was your one and only!" Lissa moaned. Ugh, I'm just wondering…how could Fang take all of THAT in? I shrugged, but deep inside, I was concerned for Ari too.

"Maybe we should go find him…" Gasman suggested.

"He probably went to the roof. I'll go find him."

"Great!" Lissa's voice brightened drastically. "While you go look for this…Ari losaar, I'm going to have like, two freaking awesome martinis with my boyfriend. It's awesome that you're letting us spend some quality time with each other, Uggy."

"IGGY!" I corrected loudly, but it was no use. That Lissa girls' brain was filled with nothing but Fang, Fang, Fang. I can already sense her rolling her eyes. "Like that even matters, **IGGY**." The worst part was…she even had to drag my NAME out. "Come on Fang! Let's go!"

The Gasman decided to stick with Manager Ride, so the job was up to me. I walked up the fire exit stairwell and once I opened the door to the roof and the cool breeze, I heard someone singing…

"_**I wanna BEEEEEEEE a rock star! A SUPEHEROR! Living the DREEEEEEEAM, doing the things that I ALWAYS wanted….I wanna SEEEEEEEEE my face on the T.V., with my pictuuuuuure on the coooooover for my friends to see a DIFFERENT SIDE OF ME!"**_

Yup; this squealing was DEFINITELY Ari's. I quickly walked towards the ledge (The roof of the building isn't that big) since that was where I heard Ari's voice. I think Ari noticed me, because he started to GIGGLE.

"Hey Igggggy, look at mee! I'm FLYING like a bird!" He cried joyfully. I grasped onto his pant leg before he could take a step OVER the ledge. Woo man, that's when he will really live up to the name of "One Winged Angel".

"Come back down this instant, Ari!" I scolded angrily. "Ari? My name ain't Ari, big boy!" He squatted down and then started to continuously slap my cheek. Talk about ow?

Finally – after much persuasion – Ari came to his senses (Not really though; more like "is still sober but doesn't want to die so he came back onto the ground") and made a disgusting gagging noise. I started to rub his back. "Aw, man, Ari, that's sick. Are you feeling all right?"

Ari grinned stupidly. "Of course I am, Dad!"

Okay, WHAT? Dad? The guy is really hallucinating, and judging from the still-full can of alcohol, I can tell that he has a very, VERY low tolerance for the stuff. He pressed a finger to my lips, and I swear, I could hear my heart beating a couple beats faster.

"You know what, Dad? I hate impersonating as Ari…" He said slowly while burping. _Go on, Ari…_I thought. "I want to be my old self again where I could use my hygienic items…like…"

_Please continue…_

"**CONDOMS** and…**AFTER SHAVE**…"

And that was that…he fainted. I groaned loudly to myself. "Ugh, Ari, you're driving me crazy with your nonsense!" Wait. Wait…wait a minute…

Brilliant idea forming in my head…

This is a drunken, totally knocked-out Ari Ride here…

And here we are on a secluded rooftop…

And here I am with the mind-boggling question of…is Ari's real name Max? And is Ari supposed to be well…a girl?

Slowly, and shakily, I reached my hand forward to feel for Ari's shoulder. Perfect! I had a good grasp on his right shoulder! And then now to slowly move down towards...that part…

"**UGGY!**"

Oh boy, not again! I quickly whipped away my hand and glanced behind me – although I couldn't even see where she was, not that I was complaining by the way.

She stomped over in her stiletto heels, and then whined loudly, "Uggy, you HAVE to help me! Stupid and idiotic Fang won't talk to me! And your stupid GUZZLE ain't helping me since he's too busy showing off his 'Arthur' doll!"

"I can't really," I mumbled modestly, and to be honest, I would like to do **NOTHING** for her. "I have to take care of my drunken member, you see. AND HIS NAME IS GAZZY!"

"No, I don't see! And like I CARE. It's not YOU TWO I have a HUUUUUGE crush on okay?" God damnit, woman, how selfish could you get? And to also add, way to stomp on our fragile self-esteem! "You go and talk to Fang, and I'll take care of him okay? Sheesh!"

If I didn't give in, she was probably going to have a crying and stomping fit. I sighed and disappeared behind the doorway.

* * *

_**(Lissa's Point of View)**_

"Disgusting…horrid…stinky…" I mumbled while pinching my nose. Of all nights, I wanted this to be a night that Fang and I could finally share our first kiss and be memorable! But noo, here I was, taking care of some drunken brat!

Ah! The thing **MOVED!** It nearly gave me a heart attack!

"I'm getting too HOOOOOOOT," He moaned tiredly while trying to strip down his jacket. I knelt down and reluctantly helped him take off his jacket. Okay, so like I totally know I have this big obsession with Fang, but like this Ari dude here isn't too shabby either…

"Let's take a look at your six-pack abs, big boy!" I cried while trying to lift up his t-shirt. He refused, and instead he tried to slap me. The **BEE-OTCH!**

"I'm going to see them no matter what!"

When I lifted up his shirt though, I didn't see an eight-pack. Instead, I saw some sort of skin-coloured gauze that was wrapped around Ari's belly up to his chest.

And there on his chest…

Were…

_Breasts…_

At first, I was stunned. How could One Winged Angel's newest member, ARI, be…a girl? But it didn't take THAT long for me to recover. I mean, I'm the leader of 4EvAir! I can _TOTALLY_ handle whacky situations like **THESE**.

My first thought was to (If you haven't guessed already) blow her secret to the paparazzi, but then I decided not to. Instead, I smirked to myself and said, "So you're a girl, eh? Well then…I hope you're going to be ready for living hell…because in the entertainment industry of Los Angeles…when you try to steal my man by impersonating as a male…you just find unnecessary trouble for yourself…"

I narrowed my eyes down at the innocent, sleeping Ari Ride, and crossed my arms across my chest. "Living hell it is…and you've asked for it this time…"

…

Yup, I was going to have some major fun now.

_More fun than I've ever had in a while…_

* * *

**DUN DUN DUNNNNNN!**

**Haha, I know many of you would like to think that Iggy would be the first one to find that Ari is actually being impersonated by Max, buttttt...yap. LOL, I have nothing else to say to that! Anyways, here is the end of Chapter 5! What did you think? O-M-G-LISSA! (RAGE)? HOLYMOLYIDIDNOTEXPECTTHAT? PLAIGARISM(GASP)! XD**

**Send me a review to let me know! Okay, soooo let's get on with the shout-outs!**

**MidNyteMelody  
Ari  
Ally  
BlueButterfliesPlayOnMyGuitar  
sela97  
mysterywriter2418  
KC  
bookworm  
Netsrick10  
ShadowDweller97  
RandomAsRainbows  
Blastedpyro  
Jaggedwing-moonstreak  
SallSall  
Fallensnowangel5297  
**

**Thank-you to the listed above! You guys are (Once again) SO AWESOME and have a very special place in my heart! Chapter 6 might be up a little bit late...I dunno, cause next week I'm packed XD Nevertheless, I hope you guys will enjoy this story! C: See you all very VERY soon!**

**Luff,**

**Sam C:  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! It's Sam C: here! Haha, I'm extremely sorry for this late update of My Fair Lady. It was going to be late, but I didn't expect it to be this late myself! So sorry! Anyways, here's Chapter 6 and I hope you guys will enjoy it! Unfortunately, school starts in (Gasp!) two weeks for me. I hope I can get BOTH Chapter 7 and 8 done by this week and next week before Grade 12 officially starts for me. Oh, how I wish to be in Grade 9 again...**

**Max - You're in Grade 12?  
Sam C: - Yap.  
Fang - What do you learn?  
Sam C: - Stuff.  
Iggy - Is Math hard?  
Sam C: - Maybe. Unless you're a total genius, which I am clearly not.  
Nudge - Are there any cute guys?  
Sam C: - Sweetie, guys at my school are completely immature. Most of them, anyway. None of them take relationships seriously.  
Max - The longest answer you have said during this entire Author's Note...  
Sam C: - Maximum, your question was completely simple and stupidly redundant. I'm just sayin'...  
Max - DON'T CALL ME STUPID!  
Gasman and Angel - Sam C: does not own Maximum Ride! James Patterson does!  
Total - On with the story!**

* * *

Well…

I guess the two lucky things that came out from my disastrous welcoming party (It was more like discovering that I have literally ZERO tolerance for alcohol): The fact that I was found in my bedroom with my blanket covering me, as well as the point that my clothes were still on. Thank goodness none of the wonderful and god-like threesome wanted to help me into my pyjamas.

I got up slowly and peeked out from my bedroom door to see that none of them (Not even my early bird Dad) were awake yet. I decided to take a shower, since I smelt a little ripe of body odour…and the ghastly stench of the creepy Prez's perfume (Skunk and granny smith apples; how pleasant).

Note to self: Once Ari comes back from Paris, _**NEVER**_, ever buy the same perfume brand as President Marian back home.

Ah! Soothing, hot water and soap are my current best friends! However, this also gave me a relaxing time to think for a moment. For example, what had happened last night once I passed out? The only things I remember seeing is Iggy, a street full of shiny and glittery ants, and – get this - five strawberry-coloured fingernails and fingers trying to grasp for my t-shirt.

…And judging from the fact that I currently live in a household with four other men that do not wear nail polish just makes the whole situation worse.

Maybe I did dream it though…hopefully…it's not real…

Once I finished showering, I brushed both my damp hair and pearly whites, and headed downstairs to find a very silent Fang, clutching a very thick and nearly-exploding book. I continued to stare.

Okay, okay, I get it! Staring from afar is VERY rude, but since Fang and I aren't exactly on the "right page", I didn't want to cause a ruckus in the morning.

Unfortunately, at that moment, I had to sneeze. _Curse the housekeeper who didn't vacuum the floor properly!_ Fang looked up, startled, but then his tensed eyes relaxed once he saw it was me. "Good morning, Fang," I greeted, trying to be polite.

Grunt.

Huh, what a nice morning greeting.

He only hesitated a moment before saying, "Ari, come here for a minute. We have to talk." What a surprise. I raised my eyebrow, and walked towards him, seating myself in a chair. "What's up?"

Fang only flipped the book so I could read it, with his finger on the date that read August 14th. I must comment: Fang's penmanship is…far more superior than I have ever imagined; cursive, beautiful writing in blue pen without the slightest trace of smudging.

"Are you even reading? I don't appreciate people who just admire my handwriting, instead of reading what I wrote down. I do think I need some work with dotting the I's properly, don't you?"

I looked up to see Fang smirking at me, his eyes twinkling mischievously. I rolled my own eyes. "Don't flatter yourself, Nicholas," I shot back, resting my cheek on my hand. Now, what does that say…?

I scoffed while reading. "There is NOTHING important here! All you have written down is…" I yanked the book away from his grasp. "There's a Glee episode re-run at eight thirty, you're going to go jogging at nine thirty, then you are having breakfast promptly at ten fifteen…"

Since the rest of the stuff on his agenda is filled with useless drabble, I'm going to skip through. "And what is THIS? You have 'travelling to television station to record performance' at three thirty…" My eyes finally widened. Not in surprise as in the "Hooray, it's a surprise birthday party!" type, but the "Oh crap, I wasn't informed of this, and shameless cursing begins here."

Fang gave me his infamous smirk; how many times has he done that? Starting from today, I'll count: twice already within a ten minute time period.

"It was amazingly nice of you to read out my entire schedule for me, Ari dear. Shall I get you an agenda too?" Boy, as the leader of One Winged Angel, he shouldn't be using the satire language of sarcasm to crack jokes (They were _horrible_). Shouldn't he be rushing me into the practice room so I could rehearse one of their songs? I really do question his leadership skills…

I slammed the book in his face. Dude, seriously, I was freaking out here and all Mr. Toothy here cares about is if I want an **AGENDA**? "Fang, shouldn't we be rehearsing one of the songs? I mean, if we have a performance today, we should get some pract-"

Fang raised a palm to silence me. "I already know what you want to say, and sadly for you, no, we should not be rehearsing one of our songs." One thing you should know about me is that I can-NOT (Emphasis on the NOT) stand conceited people, and unfortunately, Fang was one of them that I had to face on a gloomy Monday morning.

I could do so many things to Fang at this moment, it wasn't even hilarious. I ought to castrate him…

"It's only eight thirty!" I screamed loudly. Hopefully, I didn't wake up the rest of my sleeping household members.

"Your voice sounds like those fruit smoothie blenders; it's so loud, and don't do that anymore. Not only will you abuse your vocal chords before your first performance, but you'll make Gasman unleash his ultimate atomic gases." Fang commented lazily while he stood up to stretch out his arms. "And can't you read?" _**ERGH**_, ignorant tapping on the 14th of August is not exactly helping me right now.

"What? You have reservations on Red Love Seat 4A to watch Glee?" Sarcasm; how I love you so.

His lips uplifted into a small smile. "Au contraire, I have a date with…"

"With whom?"

"_PUCK_," He said triumphantly while letting his spit fly onto my face. Ugh, the drool of Mr. Cocky himself; disinfectant or sanitizer anyone?

I only shook my head at him in disgust. Halfway towards the living room, he turned around and threw a piece of folded paper at me. Curious, I unfolded it and found myself staring stupidly at a bunch of words and scribbles in Fang's writing.

"What is this?"

"Read, moron, read!" His voice was growing impatient, most probably because he was missing his ultra-fantastic date with Puck…

"I don't see anything, oh…wait…uh, okay, move microphone away from mouth so heavy breathing is not heard," I mumbled while continually scanning the piece of paper. There were notes such as, 'Phrasing', 'Guitar solo for "Really, Fang, there's nothing here that is useful for me."

I watched Fang nearly wrench out his black-coloured bedhead. "THEY ARE THE LYRICS FOR THE SONG WE'RE PERFORMING TODAY! ANYBODY CAN READ THAT, EVEN MY COMPLETE LOSER OF A MODEL SISTER!"

"Not with your writing. Now, go on, man, and let me enjoy my practice time." I heard Fang murmur something that went by like, "Blind…missing my episode…Rachel's intense make out session with Puck…" He then left the kitchen for the living room, turning on the television.

My conclusions from this drabble amidst this fine chilly morning?

Fang is a very, very sex-deprived boy.

Fang must have had very good schooling, and probably worked extremely hard to create such fine penmanship.

Fang can also be kind and generous to his suffering band mates (Example: Me) while keeping his dick personality.

"_**YES! YES! KISS RACHEL! DON'T STOP! AW, YEAH!**_"

Conclusion #1 proved.

Enough of this though; time to practice! I ran up the staircase and pounded on Gazzy's and Iggy's bedroom door. "WAKE UP! UP AND AT 'EM BOYS, TIME FOR REHEARSAL!"

* * *

"You're going to be fine. Smile, Ari! If you don't, the ladies aren't going to enjoy your swag."

"We've heard you sing, Ari. Look, you can sing even more exceptional than Fang, and he's trained at CME for seven years! Have some confidence!"

I tried to smile at the encouragement of Gasman and Iggy, but right now, it was no use. We were currently driving along the highway in the company car; Fang chewing gum while seated beside Dad (Who was driving with his knuckles EXTREMELY white), and the rest of us cramped together in the back.

"This car sucks. It's too slow, the seats aren't comfortable and it always smells like cigarette smoke in the back." I commented to get my mind off of the performance. And really, all those things I said were true; or maybe it's just because I'm used to driving at sixty kilometres per hour back in Washington WITH wonderful air ventilation in my own car.

"You don't think we want a better car?" Fang asked sarcastically from the front. "The Prez is using her billions of dollars to purchase a desert island, and hire one of the best construction crews in the country to build a private villa there. Oh gee, I wonder what…or more specifically…WHO it's for."

My face flushed with colour, because I knew Fang was talking about me, while Iggy and Gasman looked confused. "Eavesdropping is never okay, Fang." I shot back.

"Knock it off, you two," Dad grumbled from the steering wheel. "President Marian is one of the most successful and well-respected leaders within the American music industry. Do you believe that you'll be where you are at today without her guidance? I don't think so."

"Looks like Manager Jeb has a crush on the Prez," Iggy mumbled under his breath.

"Immature, Iggy, very immature! And this is coming from you, who is usually calm and collected and won't try to cause any problems within the group!" Dad was getting REALLY pissed off now, and I won't blame him, but I'm also refusing to accept his total adoration for the insanely creepy Prez.

"Okaay," Fang drawled out. "Let's put it this way then: One Winged Angel's administrator Jeb Ride-currently aged 46 with gorgeous hair and intimidating eyes-is very infatuated with the very single and will most probably be single until she reaches 60 Marian Jassen, the President of Creators of Musical Energy Entertainment."

We all started to crack up, but since Dad's grip on the steering wheel tightens even harder than ever, I nudged Iggy and Gasman in the ribs hard.

I watched Dad shoot Fang a death glare – devil horns on the head included. "Hey, don't look at me." Fang muttered sleepily while placing his feet up on the seat. "Since Iggy's comment was so childish, mine should be a tiny bit better since I had more sophisticated vocabulary."

Then, Fang whirled around in his seat. "Get some rest, guys. There's an hour until we reach the studio." Since I was stuck in the middle, I was in a very uncomfortable position to sleep since there was nothing I could rest my head on.

"Ari? You can sleep on my shoulder," Iggy said while patting his shoulder. I nodded nervously. "Are you sure?"

He shot me a completely breath-taking and genuine smile; something I have never seen since meeting him. "Sure, I'm sure! Go on, Ari, it's no trouble at all." Slowly, I placed my head on his shoulder (It was a lot more comfortable than having my head bonk around the back, I'll tell you that) and, within moments, I was already fast asleep.

Man, blind, but musically-inclined; nice and was ever the perfect gentleman. What a complete opposite from Fang.

* * *

To me, an hour felt like five minutes. My eyelids started to flutter by the time Dad started to slow down and ease the car slowly into the parking lot. Glancing around, I just noticed that we were parking in the back entrance.

"Can't we just go from the front?" I asked stupidly. Fang shot me a '_Why are you even asking such a question?_' look. Then again, I guess I do kind of deserve it…

"Um, maybe it's because there are rabid fans parked in the FRONT PARKING LOT? And maybe it's because we're famous and they want our autographs?" He muttered satirically.

"No need to be so cynical, Fang," I shot back. "Stuff it, both of you!" Dad said firmly while he parked in a parking spot smoothly. One thing I absolutely love about my Dad: His amazing driving skills, and how the Driving Gene Fairy decided to bless me with them.

"Okay, guys, let's get a move on! Performance starts in about an hour. Take about thirty minutes to rehearse your song, and then the rest of the time for make-up, hair, and costumes, alright?" Dad was so organized and well-prepared; it put me – an unprofessional and non-experienced vocalist – at ease.

We filed out into the parking lot and hurriedly rushed into the studio, where a bunch of the make-up and hair stylists, vocal trainers, studio workmen and such were there. Surprising how the stylists managed to come here full of energy after last night's party (With them chugging down at least thirteen cans of beer)…

The half hour practice truly wasn't enough for me, but that was all of the time we had. It was during this time when I discovered what "musical talent" really meant; Iggy's exceptional playing on the drum kit despite his disability, with the correct tempo and was always on the beat; Gasman and his multitasking ability to play the guitar (And with the correct chords) and being my back-up vocals and lastly…

Fang's gift of charisma and stage presence, while singing a different verse with his intense, husky voice. Honestly, I couldn't even tell that he had abused his vocal chords…or maybe that's just me.

Yup, and those fang girls out there, screaming wildly (Even when it was only a rehearsal) and throwing flowers at the stage. _Note to self_: Be aware of unidentified flying objects while performing, and be conscious of empty water bottles that fans can chuck at you because you took away their idols' spot.

Finally, the half hour was up, and we were forced to retreat back into the dressing room. My stylist only applied minimal make-up to my face and used Gatsby (It hurt SO much more than my previous hairdresser "Antoine", if you remember _her_) to scrunch up my hair to give me a "boyish look".

Since there was fifteen minutes left, I decided to lounge around the rest area with Fang and Iggy. While I was continually thinking of the possible things that could happen during the performance (Tripping, forgetting lyrics, voice cracking up; all that wonderful goodness)…

"Fang, _darling!_"

I literally spit out the apple juice I was drinking, but instead, it went down the wrong way in my throat and I started to cough and splutter. "Dude, Ari!" Gasman cried while rushing towards me. "You okay?" I nodded shakily. "Y-yes, but who was the one that just called Fang…darling?"

Gazzy lowered his voice to nothing but a whisper. "That's Fang's so-called girlfriend, Lissa Gorvorvitch. See that girl on fire wearing non-matching clothing?" I shook my head disappointedly. "Another red-haired wonder…I have had a terrible experience with someone like her."

She totally reminded me of the Prez in her early ages, except not as ugly and voice was more squeaky; like Dad's train whistle snores and…goodness gracious…a raging cat…

Lissa was smothered over Fang like maple syrup on pancakes (Great simile, right? I always knew I had the soul of a poet) without taking any notice of the other members. Fang tried to push Lissa away; then again, he was a gentleman, and being a gentleman, you could NEVER hit a girl (Unless that girl was me, of course).

"Can't you get off of me?" He grumbled angrily. "I find you so much more attractive than those ugly freaks there, Fang. You're my one and only, baby," She cooed softly while stroking his hair. Bleargh! How could he stand all that lovey-dovey mushiness? It was like trying to watch Mom cuddle up to Robert back at home when they were watching movies! And trust me; they got a LOOOOT more intimate later on…

"I do believe that 'ugly' is not a correct adjective to describe us." I began pleasantly so I wouldn't get on her bad side.

Yikes; I think I already got on her bad side without doing anything. Her eyes are eyeing me like a hawk on a poor, innocent rabbit…

"Oh, I know you," Lissa said, disgusted. "You're One Winged Angel's newest member, Ari Ride." She stood up and walked towards me. Actually, correction: Lissa Gorvorvitch started to walk CIRCLES around me. "You're that drunken, no-good, untalented and non-professional member that is replacing my gorgeous Fang as lead vocalist."

Then, grabbing my shoulder, she hissed angrily, "Good luck out there. You're going to need it, Ari Ride. If that IS who you really are…" I cocked my head to the side, putting on an angelic and innocent expression on my face. "Am I supposed to understand what you're trying to say? Because all I'm hearing is…'blah blah blah blah blah'…"

Acting totally innocent; one of the many things I have learned from my twin brother so I could get away with things from Mom and Dad, such as breaking pricey lamps or playing football in the house. Thank God for Ari and his completely whacked-up schemes and ideas!

Lissa's ugly expression transformed back into a smiley and dimpled face. "Good luck out there, Fang! I'm going to be rooting you from the front row!" She (finally) disappeared onto the stage and down the steps to the front seats. I sighed. "That girl has some SERIOUS issues."

I looked at Fang, who was also staring at me, his expression unreadable. "God, man," I crept against the lounge chair. "What's with the creepy staring? And if she is your girlfriend, teach her some manners and to smarten up, will you?"

He shook his head, scoffing. "There isn't a law that says staring is forbidden, Ari." His amused expression turned to a more serious one. "And no, I would literally die if she was my girlfriend. I won't teach her anything; she should've had a mother or a father to teach her things like that at age three…unlike me…"

_Unlike…me? What on earth was this guy thinking? I hope he's not going to go into some emo period…_ Before I could say another word, Dad poked his head from the doorway which lead to the stage. "You're on, guys!"

Fang then whistled loudly, calling for all of the members to meet up. "Is this supposed to be a pep talk?" I asked while we huddled around each other. Gah, I'm sweating like a pig. Hopefully, the AC in the outer area of the studio is good.

"Pre-performance pep talks," Iggy explained quietly. "Alright, guys. Today is a rather special performance. This is because our newest member, Ari Ride, is performing for the first time." I gulped nervously as all six pairs of eyes stared at me.

"We've done this song more than…oh I don't know…thirty times!" Fang continued. "But for Ari, this is his first time."

"Like first time going on a date or his first time kissing a girl?" I rolled my eyes at Gasman, who only grinned cheekily at me.

"Either way," Fang said, clasping his hands together. "Just perform like we normally do. We've rehearsed this song at least ten times just now. We can get it right! Iggy, make sure you stay on the beat; sometimes you're a little off. Gasman, make sure you really sing from your diaphragm."

We stacked fists and then raised our arms up. "One Winged Angel!"

_I guess there's a first time for everything, _I thought to myself as I straightened my jacket and fixed my Gatsby-scrunched hair. "Oh, yeah, and Ari?"

I looked at Fang, who was currently placing a sleek-looking guitar around his body. "Yeah? What's up? Some last-minute advice or another satirical comment?"

He only smirked softly. "None of the above, Ari. Just good luck out there." It's the 3rd time now with his brilliantly breath-taking smirk.

And there we were, walking on stage with maybe twenty thousand screaming fan girls carrying hand-written signs, wearing hand-made t-shirts and carrying daisies in their hands. I had the funny feeling that Fang's favourite flower was the daisy…

"One, two, three, four!" Iggy called from behind me.

Gasman adjusted his fingers on the guitar strings expertly and started to strum, while Iggy kept a steady beat on the drum kit. Fang gave me a heads-up, signifying that it was my turn to sing soon. Oh, crap. I can't do it, I know I can't do it, I can never sing in front of this many people! And did I also add that I'm a girl singing as a GUY, singing a _**SONG**_ that I only rehearsed for a couple hours, maybe seven and a half tops? I'm going to hyperven-

"I will promise you to live with only you in my two eyes," I sang into the microphone. Even I was completely surprised at how smooth my voice went. My annoying love-hate quote popped into my mind, _just go with the flow, Maximum, and all will be swell._

Fang gave me a quick thumbs-up while continually strumming. Huh, so that guy DOES know how to play guitar and it wasn't just a fancy-schmancy accessory to make himself look good on camera.

"I will promise you to live with only you in my arms," I was getting a lot more confident now, and my foot was tapping along with Iggy's extremely consistent drumming.

"From the time I open my eyes and till I sleep, I'll only yearn for you," I glanced at the crowd, who were also starting to wave their arms and chant with the song. It was a major confidence boost! "I love you, don't forget these words, I love you forever!"

Since I was only in charge of singing the chorus and the second verse, the first verse was made for Fang, and like always, his fang girls started to scream wildly just as he opened his mouth.

"In the hot summer days, I'll be your shadow. In the rainy days, I'll be your umbrella. When you're tired from walking, I'll even become a small chair," Fang sang with his extremely captivating voice; even I had to turn around and look at him, despite the possibility that I would totally embarrass myself and look stupid on camera.

Yup, stage presence and charisma was all there. On stage, it was as if Fang had shed his cocky lizard skin for something much more vivid and brilliant; he was the full package (Yes, with the voice, with the looks, with the intense fingering on the guitar) which he had to train and perfect for seven years at CME.

"When you laugh, we'll laugh together so our happiness doubles, when your tears flow, I'll become a handkerchief to wipe your tears away," Gasman started to sing from my left. I glanced at him; wow, this little dude could REALLY belt out a tune!

The rest of the performance went by really smoothly. "I love you, don't forget this words…I'll love you forever!" It was my last line of our hit song, Promise. The last of the guitar strumming died away, and so did Iggy's consistent drumming.

I quickly bowed to the wildly screaming fan girls below (I think some were chanting my name; woo, boy, I have some fans on my hands!), and shot a look at Fang, who was only smirking at the crowd and waving. I've been counting; it's been the 4th time today!

All the members were finished giving their thanks to the fans of One Winged Angel (And Fang was right in front of me, picking up the scattered daisies that lay limp on the floor), we decided to head off the stage. And I, feeling a very sickly yet oozing-in-goodness sensation of euphoria, was about to step away and hurry along with Gasman when…

**_CREEEAAAAK!_**

Looking up, I stared in horror at what was coming right at me. One of the loosened spotlights (I will honestly sue the studio for hiring such terrible construction workmen!) started to fall from the ceiling!

Let's see…there was a 90% chance I would survive if I acted now in 2.2 seconds, and a 10…no, make that…45% chance I was going…no…not even 45…more like 50/50 chance of life and death!

I glanced at the very mesmerized-by-daisies and absent-minded Fang. If I didn't push him away right now, both of us could be seriously injured (And yup, just like that, our singing careers would end. I guess Iggy and Gasman could form a duo…with a name like the Pyro Twins…). I know Fang is going to COMPLETELY hate me for this, but what's more important? Our lives or his daisies?

Quickly, with a running start, I pushed Fang away from that area. Both of us landed near Fang's microphone, where he was just singing, and it was at least ten feet away from a devastating CRASH we heard maybe a millisecond later. Thank God for good timing? I think so.

"Yow," I mumbled while rubbing the back of my head. I wonder if I got a concussion…

Glancing at Fang, I was pleased to see that there were only a few bruises and a minor cut on his arm. Nothing life-threatening; unless he thinks that slightly shrivelled and ruined daisies are like his children and he wants to commit a terrible, terrible suicide; then THAT is completely life-threatening!

"Fang, are you okay?" I quickly rushed back onto my feet while staring at the wreckage only ten feet away from me. The spotlight had fallen promptly on where I was standing previously, crashing directly into the ground; with the floor and surrounding area covered in white smoke and dust.

Below me, Fang started to chuckle. "What are you laughing at, moron? This was a total life and death situation, and you're _LAUGHING_?" Honestly, could this guy lose the sarcasm for a couple seconds? Would it kill him to be genuine when we were in these uber-strange and highly suspicious circumstances?

"That was fun; can we please do it again sometime?" Fang grumbled while slowly standing up.

"I hope that's sarcasm, Fangtard." I shot back.

We both glanced at the audience, who were flabbergast and screaming loudly for their lives. Eek, talk about a blasted eardrum! But right now, I'd take my life and maybe a couple scratches over a broken eardrum any day…

"Is Fang and Ari dead?"

"No, that can't be possible! I still want my babies with him! _**FANG! NO!**_"

"Fang, you can't die! One Winged Angel won't be the same without you!"

"I can't see anything through this smoke through my binoculars! Fang! Ari! No!"

"Who cares about Ari? You can replace him any day!"

"Ari's such a loser! Our Fang is probably shaking with fear right now from his brute masculinity!"

I rolled my eyes while watching the audience try to see through the debris. "Such nice fang girls you have there, and IF I did NOT have brute masculinity, then both of us would be FanRi pancakes." I commented drily.

"Jealous?" His voice had a slight hint of mockery, but then his tone turned serious. "I mean, they're all bashing you," He said while glancing at me.

"I could care less about them," I replied, fluidly, naturally. What a lie; I absolutely hated it when people started to criticize me for no reason at all when they didn't even know what had happened.

The audience started to scramble out of their seats and running for the door, except for a fair few who stayed to see if we-or possibly just Fang- were okay.

Lissa Gorvorvitch walked up the stage and ran towards us, pushing me away and hugging Fang around the waist. "Oh, Fang, are you okay?"

"Your care is uncalled for, and my safety is none of your concern, thank-you very much," He replied coldly while pushing her away.

"If I didn't dislike you, Fang, I would give you a virtual high-five," I said as we walked away from Lissa, who was staring teary-eyed after him.

He shrugged. "Meh. Well…that was a great performance, wasn't it?"

"Of course."

"Well, what do you say; we ditch the band and an overly stressed-out and over-protective manager and get sushi?" I stared at him as if he were speaking pig-Latin. "We just had an accident, and you want to eat _**SUSHI**_? Shouldn't we at least go to the hospital for a check-up?"

Fang rolled his eyes. "Stop being such a girl; accidents happened before. And besides," He stared at me, once again, his expression impassive. "You saved my life."

"Fine, fine," I said. "Which way out to the parking lot?"

Fang shrugged. "Beats me."

…

I was **SERIOUSLY **going to suffer from some dreadful mental illnesses if he kept this up.

* * *

**There you have it, boys and girls! The latest chapter of My Fair Lady! Anybody care to guess who sabotaged the spotlight? Cookies to those who guess it right? C: **

**Fang - Okaaay, well, her favourite drink is "lemonade".  
Max - And she believes there is no "I" in "TEAM".  
Iggy - And she thinks she's the "sexiest sweetie" in all of Los Angeles.  
Gasman - And she ALSO thinks that "apples" are an evil way to gain weight, which on the contrary, helps you lose weight. She's a LOSER.  
Fang - No, no, Gasman. She's...a...  
Max - LISSA! O.O!  
Iggy - Her very own species. Well done.**

**Chapter 7 will be on the way! I have all the notes down on the iTouch! I just have to get to writing it...now I'm off to study some Math before my tutor gets here! Happy reading! And see you guys again soooon! And if anyone wants to know, the song that One Winged Angel singing is the English translation of ANJELL's song, Promise. Check it out! It's pretty catchy! As always, constructive criticism, reviews and feedback are a major YES! Let me know what you thought of this Chapter! C: **

**Anddd, thanks so much for the hits/visitors/favourites/story alerts/reviews guys! You guys are AWESOME! **

**Luff, **

**Sam C:  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! It's Sam C:! Sorry for the (Really, really) late update of "My Fair Lady"! School is coming up in less than 2 weeks. Gasp! And since it's my most crucial year (Grade 12, augh!), I've been pretty busy organizing everything. Anyways, we've reached 64 reviews, guys! Thanks for your feedback! I will do my best to make the story the best that I have written (So far, anyway)! I hope that you guys will continue to read! Wee, this Chapter is actually 14 pages. Another record broken! Sorry if you guys don't really like long chapters! I really wanted to add all of THIS (Uses hands to signify 'THIS') stuff in because...because...yeah. ANYWAYS, read on and enjoy!**

**Max - That took you a looong time.  
Sam C: - Hello, Maximum Ride, if I could fly, I would. But unfortunately, I have to register for programs at university. It scares the heck out of me...  
Iggy - You should be an idol singer, like me!  
Sam C: - You mean, in the STORY. You're a pretty dang good cook, so I've heard. Or is it Gasman? I'll never know. I completely forgot.  
Fang - Oh, so you're saying I can't cook?  
Sam C: - In the story, you MIGHT cook. One day. And then burn the whole villa down so you'll have to go live at Lissa's.  
Gasman - IGGY? IGGY! WHERE ARE YOU? I NEED YOUR HAND!  
Fang - Y'know, her lips were pretty delicious. Strawberry gloss...  
Max - So you like girls with strawberry gloss? -jealousy-  
Nudge - Angel, sweetie, please do the disclaimer before anybody gets hurt.  
Angel - Sam C: does not own Maximum Ride! James Patterson does!  
Total - On with the story! And SHOUT-OUTS AT THE BOTTOM!****

* * *

**"Okay, well, since you nearly died and I saved your life, I need some omega-3 to restore my brain cells I just lost." I said while grabbing the piece of tuna roll from his plate and onto mine.

There we were, just the two of us, in a secluded little sushi restaurant on the outskirts of Los Angeles. We had driven for an hour especially just to find a quiet spot to eat dinner.

"Don't I need some too?" Fang mumbled under his breath while stuffing himself with beef teriyaki udon.

"Did you save somebody's life? I don't think so, Mr. Nicholas." I snapped, snatching away more salmon pieces from his plate. Truthfully, I didn't need all that excess, yummy goodness of omega-3. But I loved fish. You know us male-impersonating girls (I'm sure there's more than one); just got to have our fish.

"And anyway, what's so important about daisies? There are plenty of them in flower shops. In fact, you can just ask those flower arrangement stores to send yourself a bouquet of daisies." I asked.

For some reason, he turned extremely quiet – if that was even more possible. Ignoring my question, he crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "What's up? Your life is saved from the brilliant Ari Ride, and you're sighing? Y'know, I could've just escaped myself. I'm just too nice to watch you get squashed into a flattened Fang pancake."

"No, I'm just thinking of the possible Fanfiction that would come out later." He rolled his eyes while taking a sip of green tea.

First things first: What in the WORLD is a "_Fanfiction_"? The idea sounds pretty sketchy to me. And second of all, why would Fang be worried about a "_possible Fanfiction title_"? Huh…it honestly makes me wonder what regular teenagers do with their spare time now.

Don't they usually just do stuff like…I dunno…surf the Net, play some basketball, chill by eating a dozen ice-cream bars and then kick back into sleep mode?

What is the world coming to, besides the major issue of global warming hitting the planet?

"What is a Fanfiction?" I asked. Fang raised his eyebrows, as if what I said was absolutely ludicrous. And truthfully, a Fanfiction (To me, dearest Maximum Ride) is an absolutely absurd idea – whatever the hell it was.

"A Fanfiction is fictional story written by fans; whether they like Hannah Montana, or Fairly Odd Parents, or even music bands, like us."

"Well," I began slowly, dipping my sashimi in a gloppy green gloop (What an amazing alliteration!) mixed with brown. "Why would you have to worry? Fans love their own hobbies, and writing is just a way to express themselves and the love for their interests."

"That's the point," Fang grumbled. "You don't get it. The Fanfics I've read on the Internet? Yeah, there's usually a yaoi love triangle between Gasman, Iggy and I." He started to ruffle his black hair with his hands, groaning loudly. "But in your case? By tonight, it's probably an angst story where you killed my girlfriend and I get my revenge. Sweet."

I shook my head. "Still, I don't get it. What's 'yaoi'? A super cool taichi move?"

"Moron, you don't go on the Internet enough." He complained. "Yaoi is just…to put it bluntly…a gay relationship."

Unfortunately, at that moment, I was drinking green tea. And since green tea is not suitable travelling down the trachea, I started to cough, splutter and choke. Honestly though, a "gay relationship" between Iggy and Fang…oh, I can see it now…

_Just the Two of Them_

_A Short Paragraph by Maximum "Ari" Ride_

_While Fang became completely immersed in his guitar music, a small creak from the door was heard. The sound was barely audible to him as he continued to strum. A pair of feet started to walk in from the doorway, towards him._

_Fang looked up at the gorgeous face of his band and soul mate, Iggy. "Iggy? What are you doing - ?" Fang couldn't continue on with his question. Iggy only used a finger to lift up Fang's face. "No words need to be spoken." Softly, slowly, he pressed his moist lips against Fang's. _

"_I'll always love you until I die, nothing could ever tear us apart, Fang," Iggy murmured tenderly as Fang discarded his guitar onto the carpeted ground, reaching up towards Iggy's strawberry-blonde hair to ruffle it. _

Forget what I said. The mental image was mind-bogglingly disturbing.

I started to regain my posture after choking for a full minute and a half. "So, uh…don't they pair One Winged Angel with girl bands too?"

For some strange reason, Fang started to look even gloomier than before. It was as if…he enjoyed the yaoi love triangle with Gazzy and Iggy, than the thought of having to be partnered with girls in stories was absolutely horrendous. "Well, I mean, of course. Usually, we're paired up with the latest girl rock group, 4EvAir. But trust me, Ari; you don't want to know who my fans pair me up with."

Resting my cheek on my palm, I started to think hard. The make-up and hair stylists are way, WAY too old for Fang (Maybe a decade or two older). Suddenly, my thoughts started to flicker towards oozing in hurl Ms. Fire Head, Lissa Gorvorvitch.

My eyes widened in horror. "You cannot be serious. _**HER**_? She's part of 4EvAir?"

Fang nodded glumly. "Lissa has the largest fan base in her entire group, mainly because she's the leader and she's apparently 'very pretty'. One Winged Angel and 4EvAir's fans ship Lissa and I the most. We even have our own website, it's called 'FanSa – For Those Who Love The Winged Leaders'."

"I think I've got some digested tuna coming back," I moaned loudly while patting my chest. Thankfully, I recovered with green tea. "But you still haven't answered my question; why would you worry about an angst Fanfiction coming out?"

"Uh, earth to Ari Ride, because of the latest accident with the falling spotlight just roughly two hours ago?" Fang said sarcastically. "Our fans are probably going to write some angst story, with us settled in the Victorian Era, battling against each other. Eventually, crowning ME as the victor, and you, with your head in the clouds. And therefore, more and more people will follow. You will suffer many versions of deaths, such as…"

His fingers couldn't even list them all. "Shark attack, eaten alive by zombies, suffering from a bullet wound while I was tracking you down through the woods, getting you expelled from Hogwarts School and ending up becoming Voldemort's apprentice, committing suicide…"

I chuckled. "Honestly, those Fanfiction stories are NOT healthy for you. Quit reading them! I bet you're kidding; they'll probably report the incident on their fan page and what not, and sure, flaming me with my 'brute masculinity' but I honestly don't think that would happen. Really, do people even spend time trying to plot my death?"

"Yes, Ari, yes," Fang said while watching my entertained face. "And I'm not even kidding. Those stories are going to affect your recently discovered fan base, and with that incident, it's going to harm your supposedly 'angelic and delicate' aura even more. Some people obviously caught that incident on film and are going to put it on YouTube. There are going to be some major battles on YouTube and on Facebook, just saying."

However, watching Fang's face really made me feel a tinge of worry and anxiety in my chest. Fang has been in the music industry for at least a year now, so he probably knows what it feels like to be totally hounded by the paparazzi, the fans and to accept every major flame that comes their way from anti-fans.

Still, I narrowed my eyes at Fang. "Angelic and delicate? _Please_. Who even came up with the idea that I, of all masculine people in the world, would be innocent and pure?"

"Who do you think?" Fang propped his elbow onto the table and rested his cheek on his palm. "Who's the one completely infatuated with your every single move?"

I made a slight gagging noise. "The Prez."

"No duh," He replied disgustedly while waving his arm in the air to the Japanese, bubble-gum coloured hair teen. "Check please."

* * *

_**(Lissa's Point of View)**_

I returned to 4EvAir's villa at around seven thirty. Since Fang and that dratted male-impersonating bitch were nowhere to be seen after the ruckus that I, the brilliant genius Lissa Evelyn Gorvorvitch, had paid someone to sabotage the spotlight.

Of course, I wouldn't do it myself. Who do you think I am? An acrobat-performing mechanic? I would ruin my newly manicured nails, wouldn't I?

Unfortunately for me, that little bitch managed to escape the attack. Oh, if she hadn't, then I would've been gloating with satisfaction.

The rest of the members were eating dinner at the table. Angel – the fifteen-year-old with long blonde wavy curls and periwinkle eyes – stared at me while I came in, covered in dust.

"What are you staring at, brat? Eat you damn dinner!" I barked angrily.

"Angel is PROBABLY staring at how ridiculous you look with all that rubbish on your face." Ella Roberts– the eighteen-year-old brown-haired Hispanic – added with a horrible smirk on her face. God, why did Mommy even let her into 4EvAir into the first place?

"I don't need your opinion, Ella," I hissed, slamming my car keys on the coffee table. "I look ridiculous with that dust? Look at you! Oops, too late! Your face isn't covered in grit and dirt and all that nasty crap, and I STILL look prettier than you."

"High self-esteem, Mommy's darling angel," She replied casually. "And way to go, the only award that you'll win this year is '_Worst Comeback in the History of Comebacks_'. Smarten up on your vocabulary via Merriam - Websters' before you try to make comebacks, okay, sweetie?"

Nudge – the seventeen-year-old African-American motor mouth – sighed as she stared at me. "You're not fit to be the leader of 4EvAir. If we could, we would kick you out. But since your mother spoils you to pieces by opening up her own Entertainment Company and already placing you in a group without any talent…well…"

Nudge shrugged. "We care about our own music careers too, so we're going to put up with your nasty attitude for a while."

Out of frustration, I threw a magazine at the back of Nudge's head, which she avoided easily. "Careful there, little feline! You don't want to get your mauve tips ruined! And while you're at it, clear up on those dating magazines, will you? You're stacking too many underneath your bed." She sing-sang while eating her pasta.

Instead of trying to argue with them, I stalked upstairs, slamming the door shut. God, I hated the dynamic trio within the group. One day, I need Mommy to convince the staff members of "L.A. Muzik" that I am ready to go solo. Mainly because I know I've got the voice that Los Angeles and obviously the WORLD wants!

And of course, because if I went solo, then I would have to avoid seeing those fugly girls downstairs and I would get the entire album cover to myself and I wouldn't have to share it "equally".

Quickly, I logged onto my computer and waiting impatiently for it to finish loading, I used the time I had to fish out the memory card from my video camera that I had brought to the recording studio recently this afternoon.

I stared mesmerizingly at the centimetre-long beauty. "Ari Ride, I'm going to turn you from a new and loved superstar…to a hated superstar. So hated that you won't even try to come back to One Winged Angel…or Los Angeles in general."

I chuckled merrily. The thought and the pleasure of ruining someone's career; it was just _too sweet_.

Loading the clip onto my computer took an extremely long time since my memory card captured too many scenes of One Winged Angel's performance (Mainly concentrated on Fang, my love bunny) and I completely forgot to delete them all.

Finally, the last clip loaded. I pressed Play, smirking in delight. "Time to upload this clip onto YouTube," I said while opening up a new browser.

Half an hour later, the deed was completed.

_08142010 – One Winged Angel – Promise ft. New Member Ari Ride – Fan Cam_

_Description: August 14__th__, 2010 – One Winged Angel's performance of Promise with Ari Ride – Fan Cam_

With good video quality and an excellent amount of subscribers to my videos, there is no reason for this video to reach 2, 500 viewers within half an hour.

I smiled deviously. "There you have it, Ari Ride. Video footage is all there. All I have to do now…

Is sit back, relax and wait for the outcome."

* * *

**_(Max's Point Of View)_**

After Dad's intensely angry and frustrated lecture on how we were behaving like complete idiots and disappearing directly after the whole mess and how he was on the verge of calling for the authorities if we didn't return by eight (Along with his natural fatherly instincts of asking me whether I was totally traumatized), I quickly logged onto the my computer.

Suddenly, Fang's words started to pop up and reappear in my mind. New fanfictions? Flames? Bashing? I decided to head onto One Winged Angel's official website to check out if Fang's prediction of my future would turn out to be true, but since it was still labelled 'Under Construction', the fan page was the next place I would go to.

Something surprising had caught my eye. In the "Meet the Members" section, I saw a new icon that said, "Get to know Ari Ride – Oozing in charisma, charming looks and a husky voice – One Winged Angel's New Lead Vocalist!" on my screen. Quickly pressing on that, I noticed that other than a new topic that was named, "Ari Ride's Profile", nothing was there.

A little disappointed, but hey, at least there weren't like "Kick Ari Out!" topics posted onto my forum.

Unexpectedly though, someone started to video call me.

Accepting it, I glanced at the screen to find a completely awake Ari (My REAL twin brother) staring back at me with his "Jessica" sleeping soundly in the motel room, with…beer bottles and…shrimp crackers sprawled over the carpet floor.

"Hey Ari, what's up?" I asked. "You guys look like you're living in a pigsty. Don't you have time to clean?"

Ari wasn't in the mood for joking, even though for at least 90% of the time, he usually is. The remaining 10% is usually a wide variety of emotions.

"What's wrong? You look like Mom just died or something."

Ari shook his head grimly. Using his thumb, he pointed to the sleeping figure behind him. "Two things, man! First, Francesca's pregnant with my baby!"

My eyes widened in horror as I gasped. "You can't be freaking serious! You're only eighteen! You can't be a father yet! And how do you know? What happened, Ari!"

Ari started to moan. "I know, I know, I messed up so badly. But in my defense, we were using condoms and she was on the Pill when…"

"What? Continue on!"

"When…the condom…broke halfway…and she forgot to take her Pill…" I only got three words for him, my friends.

**What.**

**The.**

**Hell.**

I could almost pound my head onto my keyboard or – better yet – my computer screen so I wouldn't have to see my useless twin brother any longer. "Great, just GREAT! This is one messy disaster you've cooked up!" I scolded him furiously, tapping the side of my keyboard repetitively.

Ari scoffed. "Better than you, sis! Check out this YouTube video!" Immediately, he copied and pasted a link and sent it to me via e-mail. I snorted. "What's so important about a YouTube video? Did you upload a clip of you and Jessica dining on the Arc de Triomphe?"

"The Arc de Triomphe is a total MASTERPIECE and will NOT be used as a restaurant! And you screwed up an even bigger mess than me! Just look at the video and you'll see what happened!"

And boy, was he right. When I clicked on the URL, it popped up to today's performance of us, playing Promise! It was during this moment that I realized what stupid hand movements I kept on making, and staring at the members instead of the audience.

Everything in the video seemed normal, until the last part. I watched my minuscule self look up at the ceiling and then at Fang, thus pushing him away before the spotlight could collapse onto the ground with an impact so strong it could've been mistaken for a magnitude 4.5 earthquake. In the studio anyway.

The video faded into a black screen, and I minimized the page to stare at Ari, who was gazing lovingly at his currently fertile girlfriend. "Will you turn around and pay some attention to me?" I snapped bitterly. "And why would I cause a HUGE mess because of this?"

Ari shook his head disappointedly. "There was a reason I'm the oldest one out of us two; my brain developed faster. Take a look at the comments and you'll understand why! You're ruining my – your – I mean, OUR reputation!"

_OneWingedAngelFan15_

_-I can-NOT believe this! Ari is such a danger lure! He should get kicked out! Nothing this severe ever happened before he entered! I want him OUT!_

_GasmanIsMyNumberOne896_

_-Amen to that! And I'm thankful that only Fang and this…THING were the only ones there! If it were my poor Gasman…_

_xoFang0901_

_-Honestly, nothing like this EVER happened on stage of One Winged Angel before! If it wasn't someone collapsing because of exhaustion, it was just forgetting some lines or slipping on stage! This signifies a BAD omen, people! Ari Ride is One Winged Angel's bad luck charm!_

_xILoveOneWingedAngels123_

_-Was this a completely deliberate celebrity stunt so this so-called lead vocalist could gain attention and publicity? I believe so. He is quite the amazing actor, and his timing is excellent. I hope you understand that I'm being sarcastic. _

There were no other comments there to protect me. The rest were the repetitive ladadidada bull crap; that I was an unlucky "thing" (I was considered an inanimate object. Lucky me!) to the group and I should get kicked out, **PRONTO. **

Honestly, I was burning up right now. Burning up from _ANGER!_ I tried to keep my cool, but hey, if you read comments of people flaming you when they were obviously NOT there and didn't understand what had happened or weren't living in your shoes, wouldn't you get pissed?

Ari snorted from behind the screen. "You look like a raging volcano. May I suggest ice cubes and a large bowl of ice-cold water?"

"Knock off the joking, Ari, this is serious." I grumbled, obvious annoyance colouring my tone. "That video footage is…just…it doesn't signify **ANYTHING!** Because of my new arrival, I'm already a bad luck charm judging from one performance? This doesn't make any sense! And all of One Winged Angel's fans are going _**completely whacko**_ because of the falling spotlight and that they think their Fang is totally traumatized, and apparently, my _'brute masculinity'_ is something to look out for, while **CLEARLY** it saved both mine and Fang's lives!"

I used my fingers to emphasis 'brute masculinity'.

"Calm down, sis. I know you're pissed," Ari began softly. "But you've just got to endure it. That's what being an idol singer is about."

I narrowed my eyes angrily. "Oh, you mean…what being a twin-sister-impersonating-for-her-supposedly-idol-singer-twin-brother is about?"

Ari shook his head. "I'm going to try to resolve the situation with Mom and Dad first, okay? I'm going to ask for advice. In the meantime, continue to EMBRACE the pain and the suffering."

"There is no PAIN and SUFFERING, Ari; just a bunch of whacked-up girls going psycho." I muttered under my breath.

"It doesn't matter!" Ari literally slammed his fists down on his keyboard, the force strong enough to shake the computer screen. "You've got to learn to deal with these situations. All you have to do is just…ignore those rabid fan girls for now. That's your short-term goal. Your long-term goal?" His tongue clicked sympathetically.

"What?"

"Just be patient and wait for this whole screwed-up mess to end."

…

Life was never easy, was it? And life never gave me an opportunity to resolve issues easily, did it?

What a challenging world I live in.

* * *

The next morning was better…

But it started to go downhill from the time I woke up.

Since we were free from any activities today (I think the "supposed interview" and "radio show" got cancelled because of the spotlight incident; this will be the one and only time I will ever thank the Prez for committing such a fine deed for us), we were all stuck at home with nothing to do.

Dad was so enraged with the news bulletin, reviewing my "catastrophic first performance", and the entertainment newspapers' tabloid front page **"One Winged Angel Leader Fang Inches Away From Death – Could Ari Ride Be A "Bad Luck Charm?" **that he started to bark at anyone who called him regarding the incident.

And by the way? The phones rang non-stop, starting from this morning at seven thirty.

"IF YOU MUST KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, IT IS MERELY COINCIDENCE THAT THIS ACCIDENT HAS OCCURED WHILE ARI WAS THERE. THAT IS ALL I HAVE TO SAY. GOOD DAY AND GOOD-BYE!"

Dad was on YouTube the entire morning trying to report the videos and clips of me saving Fang's life. None of our viewers had recognized that! None! Just…NO ONE even tried! They had all declared that I should get kicked out immediately before I put "Gasman in the infirmary and Iggy in a mental hospital."

Wanting to get some fresh air, I disappeared onto the wooden porch. I sighed, my hands on the verge of ripping my hair out in frustration.

"_You._"

Whirling around, I saw the gangly Gasman walk towards me with a lemon meringue pie, a bag of chips, a box of Lucky Charms cereal and a carton of milk in his hands, complete with bedhead and black 3-D glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. I now slowly understand why he has some digestive problems with his lack of appropriate food.

I smiled welcomingly at him. "Good morning, Gazzy! Did you stay up to watch Avatar last night?"

"Don't you 'good morning, Gazzy' me, Mister Ari Ride." His voice sounded sinister, but really, come on, it's just a fifteen-year-old teenager, complete with the baby fat on his cheeks. The sentence sounded adorable, even though he looked like a growling Chihuahua. "And if you MUST know, I was NOT watching Avatar. I was, on the other hand, watching Toy Story 3!"

My smile faltered. Just a tad, really, because I couldn't bring myself to NOT smile at the little, cute Gasman that still loved Pixar movies (Not that I didn't, by the way). "Uh, what's up?"

Gazzy set the lemon pie on the sky-blue painted table while pressing his fingers against each other. "There is something that I want to know." He adjusted his spectacles like he was a detective. _TOO _insanely_ cute_!

"IF my calculations are correct, I believe that yesterday afternoon, around sixteen hours, One Winged Angel was performing at the local studio to promote the news of their new member, Ari Ride."

"That's me!" I waved my hands in the air. Jazz hands; always my most favourite to learn in Drama when I was in middle school.

"Don't you DARE use your jazz hands on me! You are currently undergoing questioning, and everything that you say – and do – will be marked down in my handy dandy…" Gazzy whipped out a red notebook. He really reminded me of Steve from Blue's Clues; Gazzy WAS wearing that green striped shirt and a pale-ish, peachy pair of pants.

Wow, I'm good at alliterations. I'm on FIRE. Just kidding.

"There are several questions that I would need answers to. First of all, you do realize that after you have come into the group, a couple incidents have happened?"

I rolled my eyes while flashbacks of me and Fang's "accidental encounter" started to play. "Yes, yes, I do, oh great Detective Gasman."

Gazzy discarded his notebook and then replaced it for the cream pie. "And what I want to know is…"

Cream pie an inch away from my face; ooh, I'm so scared. _Not._

"Are you purposely trying to cause drama in the group to get attention? Or is there something going on…between…the two of you?"

I just shook my head at the completely oblivious yet total cutie. "You're hopeless, Gazzy. I'm going back inside. See ya later."

"DON'T YOU TRY AND GO BACK INSIDE!"

And that was when I realized he had thrown the lemon meringue pie at the back of my head. The pie pan fell to the floor with a loud **PLOP**, and sniffing my hair gingerly, thanks to Gasman, I now have a distinctive aroma of lemon on my roots.

Great.

Opening the jug of milk with one hand, I sprayed it all over the patio, leaving a trail of gloppy dairy, giving a good indication that this jug of sour milk was expired.

"You did NOT just do that." His voice was completely grossed out.

I smirked. "Try your luck on me, Gazzy."

Instead, he grabbed the Lucky Charms box and reached in for a handful. "Here's your cereal for the day!" I was awaiting the shower of Lucky Charms with my eyes completely shut when…

"_**OW!**_"

Looking up, I watched Iggy throw a handful of Cheetohs at Gazzy's face from the open orange chip bag. Turning to me, he said, "Get yourself cleaned up from meringue and sour milk. You reek."

I nodded and hurried inside into the kitchen. Saved by Iggy!

* * *

_**(Iggy's Point of View)**_

I left the fetid Gasman (Not of his digestive gases; but of the expired-by-three-months sour milk) on the patio while I stalked back inside the house.

"Stupid, cute kid…"

I could tell that Ari was standing by the sink, with the rushing water faucet and all. I reached my finger into his hair and sniffed.

"He just had to use lemon meringue, didn't he? I had blueberry and apple in the fridge." I grumbled.

Although I couldn't see Ari's facial expression, I bet he jumped. Really high too! "Good gracious, Iggy! Don't scare me like that! You know, if you were an animal in your next life, you'd probably be a cat."

I smirked while reaching on the countertop for a wet towel to wipe the wispy foam and the lemon jelly off of his head. "The meringue really brings out the Nutella spread in your eyes. Absolutely gorgeous, Ari. Your colour combinations are fantastic!"

I can already feel him rolling his eyes. "Shut up, Iggy. You'd be pissed off too, if you had possibly a thousand fan girls trying to kick you out of a music group while having to wipe your hair clean of pie filling."

My expression, hopefully, turned into a sympathetic one. "I completely understand how you feel, Ari. I do. But…"

However, just because I have been on the same boat as Ari, and don't get me wrong, I do support him because he's part of One Winged Angel, it does not signify that I am aware of the whole situation. I mean, for God's sake, I'm blind!

I wrapped my arm around Ari's shoulders – yeah, I didn't completely forget that Ari might have the possibility of being a female – while my fingers inched downwards towards his sweatshirt.

I know what you're thinking; I'm a pervert (If Ari was a girl, anyway), but hey, you'd want to figure out the truth about a male-impersonating member amongst the group, wouldn't you?

"What really happened yesterday afternoon at the studio?"

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

I didn't know what was scarier; Iggy and his "creeping" hand, or the fact that Fang was watching us the entire time. There was something different about his expression today; it was like a mixture of surprise and a "What the Heck is Iggy Doing to That Poor Innocent Male?"

Suddenly, he cleared his throat. Iggy's hand jumped away and I immediately ran off, an estimate of…say…five meters away?

Fang glanced at me with an amused expression on his face. "You don't have to act like he's infected with rabies, Ari."

Looking up at the utterly confused Iggy, he said, "All those rumours and non-scientifically proven comments that Gazzy has told you about that have been posted on the fan page and on YouTube aren't true. The thing is…"

He looked at me, and then at Iggy. I truly did wonder what he was going to say.

"Ari saved my life. I wasn't paying attention because I was too busy picking up my daisies that the fans thrown at the stage. The spotlight was falling from the ceiling, and if he hadn't pushed us out of the way, then we both would've been injured really badly."

I only have one syllable for you: Wow. (Emphasize and lengthen the tone of the wow please.)

Realization seemed to colour Iggy's face. Then the typical "Oooh" and "Ahh" from both Iggy and the cheesy Gasman emerged. "But no one will know the truth about the incident! Everyone's going to continue to think that Ari sabotaged the spotlight so that he could get the limelight!"

Somehow, the situation was deemed "impossible to recover" for me. "Fang, you've got to help Ari fix this! Being a new comer to the group, he's going to be flamed and bashed for God knows how long!" Iggy cried, his voice was pleading.

But Fang only gave a playful crooked grin. Breathtakingly beautiful once again, but…I was definitely not in the mood to compliment his smiles at the moment.

"I'll see what I can do."

It only took one simple sentence to put me at ease. And even though I've only met Fang for a couple days, I don't know: I feel like I can trust him already.

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

To save Ari from a shortened music career, I had to use one of my most personal favourite arsenals: My blog from the days when I started training at CME Entertainment.

**Welcome to: Fang's Blog!**

**You are Visitor #: 5, 085, 691**

**Yo boys (Maybe a couple thousand, I'm not too sure) and girls (There are millions of them, I am totally sure), **

**It's me, Fang, One Winged Angel's leader dropping off a quick message! First off, I'd like to give a quick thank-you for helping my blog reached five million hits. Who knew that my blog since my trainee days would still remain so popular? Anyway, you've all contributed to make my blog one of the most read since 2009! Thank-you antis, fans, random people, friends and family! **

**Okay, back on track here: **

**Anyways, I'm sure many of you have heard of our newest member, Ari Ride, right? Ari's a totally cool kid; he's only eighteen, but he sings, he plays keyboard and overall, he's just an extremely well-rounded person with a great personality.**

**Many YouTube users have uploaded the latest performance of "Promise" with Ari as the lead vocalist. I agree with your video descriptions though; he looks completely stupid with his idiotic finger gestures, and those facial expressions – I mean, come on, you're on camera!**

**But there are several things that you can't deny here: Ari's talent, his charisma (Despite all that idiocy) and his personality completely shines through in the performance. Right, and the other fact – That Ari Ride, indeed, saved my life from the falling spotlight.**

**I have viewed the videos and your hate comments. As the leader of One Winged Angel, I am very disappointed in my fans. I understand that you are worried for me, and I thank-you deeply. But spreading rumours, flames and bashing comments about Ari when you only have a GLIMPSE of what happened is just l-o-w. Yep, I said it, it's low.**

**And to add to the fact that you think Ari would've sabotaged the spotlight HIMSELF before the performance is just stupid: I can tell you that Ari was sweating like a swine in the dressing rooms before the performance and was shaking with fear. There were at least seven pairs of eyes (Not counting Iggy's, of course) that saw Ari there. **

**So here's a brief (Very brief) description on how it went down:**

**When I was picking up my daisies (I have an entire bouquet of them standing in a water jug right now), the rest of the members left the stage already – or so I thought. Ari didn't leave yet, and at that precise moment, the spotlight started to come loose and came falling down.**

**There wasn't any time for me to be notified because I was too busy with the flowers, and of course, Ari was concerned for my safety and his at the same time. We only had a couple seconds before the spotlight would flatten us into pancakes and (possibly) electrocute us. He pushed me away before the falling spotlight could squash us. **

**The end.**

**And that's exactly how simple the whole situation was, but because of videos and rumours, you fans start making things up. Ari and I are completely fine, and he's not totally affected by your harsh criticism (At least I think so) but I do hope that you, as fans, have learned your lesson in spreading gossip around, especially on the Internet when everything can be sent with just a click and some typing on the keyboard.**

**If you really do support One Winged Angel, please put aside this situation in your heads and repeat these following messages in your brains: Ari is not a danger lure, he is not a bad luck charm, and he DEFINITELY did not ask for this falling spotlight to happen. **

**If you do support us, please give some confidence for Ari too. As a new comer to the group, he is still trying hard to adjust to life as an idol singer. He only had a month and a half to train AND debut and that is so little time, compared to your seven-year leader. *Cough, me, Cough***

**So anyways, that's just my little blog post in…I don't know actually…maybe a month? Hey, blogging is fun. I'll probably do it again, but the next time I blog, I hope it won't have to be another one to clarify a scandal or some stupid rumour (Like that one with Justin Bieber – If you're still convinced that we make a cute couple, write a story and post it on Fanfiction or something. Don't tell me about it). **

**Peace Out,**

**Fang **

Half an hour later, I leaned back in my office chair, stretching my arms. Never - in my entire life as an idol singer - have I blogged so much before.

But this was the only way I could repay Ari for saving my life - and his current tarnished image. And really? Helping Mr. New Lead Vocalist sent a warm sickly feeling in my stomach...something like...joy and...happiness.

Or maybe...it's just from the sushi yesterday. I guess I'll never know.

* * *

**There you have it, boys and girls! The latest chapter of My Fair Lady! A tad TOO long (I think) but I hope you'll love it nonetheless. Okay, so shout-outs! (There are more from the beginning, but I will put a whole list when I get to my last chapter - which may take a while. XD. Anyways, thank-you to the reviewers of both Chapter 5 AND 6!)**

**LovinTheSun1996  
Fan123  
ShadowDweller97  
Ari  
Blastedpyro  
FallenSnowAngel5297  
BlueButterfliesPlayOnMyGuitar  
xoiLuvFangxo  
SallSall  
KC  
THE NINE TAILS FOXBOY  
Netsrik10  
Nofreakingway  
KiMiRoSeFaN  
sela97  
Shayna-18  
Ally  
Call Me Bitter**

**I also love you guys, who have put my story on your Favourites/Story Alerts and what not. And of course, those who took the time to read my story! Thank-you so much! As you may have guessed, I might be updating once a week (One chapter per week). I don't know if I will once school gets in the way, but I'll try my best! In the meantime, thank-you and I love you guys! Feedback, constructive criticism and reviews are always a YES. C: **

**For those living in Canada, enjoy the rest of your summer!  
For the rest, good luck with your finals, tests, homework and school in general!**

Luff,

**Sam C: **


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys! It's Sam C: here! I'm really, REALLY, REALLY sorry for the late update! School has been driving me crazy ever since it started, and since I'm taking difficult courses and having to juggle it with personal stuff, I couldn't write Chapter 8. I'm sorry, guys! But I hope this eighteen-paged chapter will make you guys happy! Forgive me please! I had all my notes written down on my iTouch (Once again!), but I just couldn't write it out on a Word Doc because I've been busy with homework (George Orwell and the "Politics and the English Language", exciting, right? XD) and I can't stay up late as much to work on it. But I'll make this Author's Note short and brief! I hope you don't feel that the Chapter feels kind of rushed, I really didn't want you guys to wait anymore XP. So here it is, girls and boys! Chapter 8 of My Fair Lady!**

**Max - WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE!  
Sam C: - At school, at home, doing homework, studying.  
Iggy - We've MISSED YOU SOO MUCH!  
Gasman - My heart was breaking!  
Total - You wouldn't BELIEVE how much pain and suffering we were going through without seeing you open up the Word Document for Chapter 8 and writing it!  
Sam C: - Hello! Guys! I'm busy! I have a pain-in-the-butt school life!  
Fang - You should at least work on the story for half an hour a day at least...  
Angel - I agree with Fang.  
Nudge - When are WE (Angel, Ella and I!) coming in? We're the best damn thing that the world has ever seen!  
Sam C: - Have you been listening to stuff Angel is giving you?  
Angel - (Blushes) I NEVER LISTEN TO THIS STUFF! I'M ONLY SEVEN!  
****Max - EIGHT!  
Angel - EIGHT - OH, WHO GIVES A CRAP?  
Everyone - GASP!  
Sam C: - Iggy? It's all yours!  
Iggy - Maximum Ride is owned by James Patterson!  
Lissa - ON WITH THE STORY!  
Sam C: - WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?**

**

* * *

**_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

Just in forty minutes, my blog visitors reached six million viewers. I sighed as my personal e-mail inbox became flooded with e-mails, notifying me of latest comments.

_From SupportingFanSa, Manhattan, New York_

_-Thank Goodness you're okay, Fang! Well, I'm still not too convinced that Ari isn't One Winged Angel's bad luck charm, but he did save your life. If only it had been Lissa that saved your life…I would have a totally new Fanfiction to write about tonight!_

_To SupportingFanSa_

_-Thanks for worrying about my safety. Yes, Ari saved my life. That is factual. Him being One Winged Angel's bad leaf clover? It hasn't been scientifically proven with all that science-y goodness; test tubes, DNA testing from Ari's drool mixing with my blood and of course, calculating the force of the spotlight with the gravitational pull and the weight, so don't jump to conclusions without the clear evidence as it is NOT factual. And are you kidding me? Lissa would probably be the first one to jump off the stage without notifying me. All she has in that head of hers is "You are a gorgeous foxy vixen, Lissa, and don't you ever forget it!" I will never go out with someone with an ego as huge as hers. And don't try to protect her saying she's projecting "self-confidence"…'cause it ain't self-confidence._

_From Melanie, Somewhere In the United States_

_-Wow, Fang! It's amazing to be seeing you protect your band mates from flames, bashing and the like. Ari's such a cutie on camera, although he does look kind of stupid. Anyway, I'm glad the both of you are okay and are doing well. Tell Ari I said hi and keep up the great work with the singing, all right?_

_To Melanie,_

_-Wow, Melanie! You are possibly the only one who has been commenting on all of my blog posts ever since my trainee days. Kudos to you! And anyways, thanks for being the ONLY one *Ahem, take note blog-readers!* out of all of the comments that is supporting Ari too. He's going to go whack because he finally found a fan. I'm being sarcastic by the way, so don't try to put that "You're lying about this entire blog post!" on my plate. And don't worry; I most definitely will. _

_From FanRiIsTrueLove, Paris, France_

Is it just me? Are my eyes deceiving me (Curse you, my optometrist who prescribed the wrong contacts for me!)? Or is the commenter's screen name REALLY, TRULY "FanRiIsTrueLove"?

Oh, my God.

**Ooh, my God.**

_You know, Fang, I've never really liked the Fanfictions or the trailers that were posted on your fan pages, numerous websites, and of course, the Internet Television YouTube. _

I knew that. I also realized that Fanfic authors had made trailers on YouTube based on the Fanfictions to promote their story. Absolutely vile…I also wondered how they managed to obtain a picture of Gasman and I kissing. It was then when I realized that the wonders of Photoshop were terrifyingly scary.

_I honestly didn't enjoy those stories because I didn't think you were partnered with the right people. I mean, Lissa? She can't sing for shit, and this is coming from someone who can sing, but not as well as his younger twin sister. As for the yaoi fanfics, I don't have anything against them but…I don't know…I don't think I see chemistry between you and your members…_

_So I DO have a male fan. Iggy's going to get so jealous._ "Supposedly speaking, are you saying that I don't have any stage presence with my group members?" My eyebrows started to rise until I read the next line.

_When I say chemistry, I mean chemistry of looove. I see brotherly love, but not that other type. Y'know in Brokeback Mountain? Yeah, can't see anything of that between you and the pyro twins. _

NOW I get it.

_Anyways, after watching that video, I was shocked to see what had happened. I was extremely worried for Ari; I mean, after all, he IS the newbie in the group and he doesn't deserve all this negative attention. However, you put in the effort to write this blog post to protect Ari from future harm of us rabid fang guys. Ha-ha, laugh please._

"Ha-ha." It was a very bleak laugh, but hey, amazingly this guy _could _get a chuckle out of me. Usually, I was sickened of reading the same tedious crap: _**"Please marry me, Fang! I love you so much! Bear my babies!"**_

_I have been watching One Winged Angel for a while (Plus, your blog, but I'm not a psycho stalker so don't call the cops on me yet) and never have I seen you protect your band mates with such…I dunno…passion. Does that make sense? I don't think that made sense, but I'm not going to try to correct myself because I'm busy taking care of my girl's baby in her belly. It will slowly develop into a fetus! A fetus with a penis!_

"The guy is going whack," I mumbled under my breath, resting my chin on the palm of my hand. "But nice dream; I hope you get your wish of a son within ten months' time."

_So all I wanted to say is that: You guys are slowly developing a wonderful friendship, and possibly something even more! Would you ever consider it?_

One quick sentence: I was too astounded and jaw-dropped to reply to this French dude. I wonder who he was; hang on, could it be Gaspard Ulliel? After all, even though he has a student-discovered-beautiful-and-sexy-model girlfriend, he DID show some affection for me at the after-party of the Oscars…

But I've never heard of him having a younger sister...

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

The next morning, I was still in a mess. Yup, a huge, sticky gloop of mess that I must manoeuvre my way through the black pile of gunk and then wash away my troubles with huge pots of boiling water, suitable only for dissolving milk powder for a baby. I can clearly tell that I'm in a mess because:

Dad had to wake me up, even though I am the early bird in my family. He was normally the second one to wake up when my parents were still together.

I had a pimple. Yes, that's right; a pimple on my forehead. I normally don't break out, but under extreme special circumstances or an "X" amount of unstoppable stress, then I would get one, two of these annoyingly un-beautiful red bumps, tops.

I wasn't in the mood for made-from-scratch waffles that Dad made. What the hell; I was REALLY messed. I loved waffles! And I loved drizzling seven tablespoons of maple syrup on them!

Looking up from my untouched breakfast, I watched as Gazzy and Iggy both ate slowly, both trying hard to avoid eye contact with me. Probably 'cause they don't want to say anything that might hurt me (Which proves that they are true gentlemen and are A+ boyfriend material), or 'cause I just looked like shit.

I'm thinking it's the last excuse.

Suddenly, Dad barged into the kitchen, an excited look plastered on his face while flinging the daily entertainment tabloid towards me. My eyes widened in shock at the title.

**One Winged Angel's Fang Reveals All! Saved by Guardian Angel Ari?**

Because I was drinking two-percent milk at the time, I nearly choked as it was going down my throat. Not only did I not have time to finish drinking my glass of milk, I also didn't have time to swallow the rest of my breakfast or read that article that made the bursting headlines.

All I knew was that I, in my guy sweatpants, my guy sweatshirt, and my guy hat, I was being driven off to an unknown destination with half a waffle stuffed in my mouth, trapped between two pyro sandwiches, with the dark roast beef sandwich sleeping soundly in his Harvard fleece hoodie (He didn't GO to Harvard to become a lawyer; he only performed there for a music concert) beside an excited and ecstatic-looking Dad.

Well, at least the entertainment newspaper did one good thing: I could finally swallow ONE waffle without failure.

* * *

"So, Fang! Everyone has been DYING to know, at least your…'fangs', heh heh," DJ Parker raised up a mini-sign that wrote, in big white bolded letters, screaming "LAUGH!"

Nervously, we all giggled. For me, I only sighed into the sleeve of my shirt. Even though I was totally sleepy, I could tell that the so-called "laughter" emitting from the trio's vocal chords were fake, and completely not true.

So anyways, here we are, at Los Angeles' hottest radio station, being interviewed by…

_Wait for it…_

A trainee brunette female DJ who couldn't even spell out something witty; NOT the original DJ, who was stuck in a hospital for breaking his leg. Poor dude. I felt for him; one, for having to be stuck in a cast for a month, and two, for having a student-in-training that stammered every time she looked at Fang. I wouldn't blame the girl though; Fang is an attractive guy.

Wait, or was she looking at me? Sorry; I've got too much dirt and grit stuck on my eyelashes.

Anyway, we've been here for at least half an hour, and really, I truly wanted to die from fatigue and drowsiness. And from losing my sanity because of DJ Parker and her so-called "droll comments". She ain't droll man; she's a total troll in the world of Literature and speech, or maybe I'm just being way too harsh because I'm sleepy.

And if you're wondering if I could just sleep through the entire radio interview, then no, you're wrong: I couldn't sleep. Why?

Quote Jeb Ride, 'Because your snoring is horrendous, and we don't want the tabloids hoarding the villa to examine how many decibels your snores are worth. I'm sorry for being blunt, sweetie, but it's the truth. I'll get you a good pillow later on, okay?'

And he wasn't even kidding.

I looked up from my droopy eyes, my lips uplifting into a small smirk while watching the rest of them. Iggy and gazzy were seated beside each other; Gazzy's hooded head was slowly falling onto Iggy's shoulder. Fang sat with rapt attention beside DJ Parker (Of course, being a gentleman to any human who had long hair, legs and breasts would keep him polite; the only exception being Lissa), but it was clear that he was suffering from a very mild case of sleep deprivation.

Lucky him! Unlike me, I kept on waking up during the night, dreaming of those "fangs" pelting me with rotten eggs.

To be honest, DJ Parker wasn't interested in us at all. All she wanted to do was talk to Fang, 24/7! Then again, like I said, this was a DJ-in-training, who was a girl, and a girl with normal female hormones would feel those wonderful, fuzzily warm oxytocins working in her body because of the oozing charisma of…Nicholas Fang Undisclosed-Last-Name!

I was slightly (**JUST** slightly) amused as she looked like a tomato on the grill. For at least five minutes.

"So um…" DJ Parker's eyelids fluttered towards me. "Ari!"

I opened my mouth and yawned into the microphone. Whoops; not good for a new artist: When I yawn, I start mumbling useless crap.

"Good morning, DJ Parker. Tell me, do you like waffles?"

See, just like that.

She looked taken aback, and so did Fang, because when I turned to look at him, he had this strange expression on his face that read: _Watch your mouth, pal_. I only smiled cheekily at him.

"I um…I love…um…waffles!" Taking a quick glance at her, she looked straight at me, and I swear in the name of God that her pupils became flooded with the disgustingly putrid colour of hot pink hearts. Fang only shot me another look, the message this time was: You can get girls with anything you see, even waffles.

Well, hey, at least I have a fan now?

"But my um…real question is…" Although DJ Parker managed to regain her posture, she started to tremble so much every time Fang and I looked at her that she became so flustered and dropped her package of notes onto the floor.

"Um so…uh…" She retrieved her notes and began to pinpoint with her finger of where she had left off. "Ari! There has been a lot of controversy regarding you, Fang and the spotlight incident, and One Winged Angel's fans are clearly split on the issue! Do you have any thoughts or comments?"

I watched Fang open his mouth, ready to speak, but I butted in with my good-for-nothing, heart-reacting lips.

"Well…" I began pleasantly, a little bit **TOO** pleasant. "I just thought I'd let everyone know that I'm against the antis that hate me, JUST because of that incident." Whoops; newbie mistake, but I couldn't stop there. No way man!

"I mean, look," I began again. "Go suck a dick, anti-fans! And I don't freaking give a crap if you're a Fang-girl, a Gas-girl, or even an Ig-Girl! Just shut it! And I also don't care if you're also one of One Winged Angel's fans!" I was shouting into the microphone now, but these feelings have been bottled up inside for way too long now. Maybe for the past…24 hours?

Gazzy gave a quick snort while slowly waking up with his fluttering eyelids. "Did someone say dick? Spotted dick is a real delicacy in Britain! I read it in Hogwarts, A History."

"Ignore him," I mumbled, and then I continued. "Alright, listen up. I want this controversy to end now! N-o-w spells NOW! I mean, as a new idol singer and musician, we play music because we enjoy it. Mostly, anyway, like 65% tops? Okay and the rest are for like the wide public. We want you to buy our albums and our songs on iTunes or HMV. I don't give a crap, take your pick. I would prefer iTunes though."

"Ari, shut up!" Fang grumbled through gritted teeth. I held out a finger to silence him though. No need to worry Fang-girls; I didn't give him the middle one.

"Do you even understand how much stress there is to being an idol singer? Not only do we have no personal time for ourselves, we also have to juggle practices, performances, interviews, photo shoots and snapping photos of us eating Lucky Charms and having our faces pasted to the cereal box. YET, we also have to appear like good role models and idols WHILE trying to avoid the dang paparazzi!"

"And yes, I mean YOU, people-who-carry-note-pads-and-report-gossip. For a newcomer, like me, you, netizens and all those three types of fan-girls ALL looked at the spotlight situation through a one-sided perspective: Fang's! If it weren't for my 'brute masculinity', then Da- I mean, um, Manager Jeb, Iggy and Gazzy would've been mourning for our bodies right now. So um, what I mean to say is…"

Dang it, I absolutely hate it when I'm ranting and speaking my thoughts but I have to stammer with those unnecessary syllables, like the overrated "um" and "uh".

"Just stop with this useless controversy! And uh yeah…" Sleep was starting to penetrate my mind, so I needed to finish this up quickly before I totally lost my fire. "Peace out." And I had drifted into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

Never, in my history of idol and celebrity life, have I seen someone act so furiously without thinking about their consequences. But I got to hand it to him, Ari, I mean. He's just so…real, and he won't take people's crap. At first, I had thought that he was just that little boy-next-door that won't do anything to protect himself.

But man, am I wrong…

Even though, I am not completely sure whether this is the Sleepy Grumpy Ari or the real awake-and-dreaming Ari at work. But that was pretty attractive for a guy…

_Oh, my God._

_What the hell, shut up Fang! You've got too much of that Gaspard Ulliel Faker in your mind!_

Crossing my arms over my chest, I glanced at DJ Parker, who was staring, open-mouthed at Ari. Yeah, I totally knew how she felt.

Meeting my own eyes, she looked down at her papers while her face turned into a bright red tomato. Did I mention that her face resembled a tomato on a barbeque?

"Well, that wraps up the interview for today. We would love to thank-you, One Winged Angel, for coming out for an interview today! Any last words that you would like to say, Fang?" DJ Parker scribbled something onto a scrap piece of paper and handed it to me.

It was a phone number; her phone number.

I sighed and only smiled weakly at her. Now, she looked like a candle that has been lit for two hours, with wax melting. "Um…thank-you DJ Parker, for having us, but um…"

I handed the piece of paper back to her, and she looked dumbfounded. "I'm not exactly looking for a girlfriend right now, but if you would like to schedule a dinner with all of us, then please call our Manager."

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

"You talk _SHIT_ when you're **SLEEPY**! You could've just let Fang answer the question, but no, you had to react with such a long…raging speech!" Dad was furious with what had happened at the radio station, and I, for one, did not blame him for using vulgarities. He was never prone to using them when he and Mom were still married, but I guess when the kids get older, vulgar swear words are the best thing to use when scolding your eighteen-year-old daughter.

I sighed as I tried to reason with Dad. "Dad, do two things for me before I get on with my speech, okay?" Dad grumbled for a bit, but nodded tersely through the rear-view mirror.

"Slow down on the driving, will you?" I complained loudly as I glanced, from the back seat and squished between the pyro twins, the speedometer that read, ninety miles per hour. Mumbling angrily to himself, he eased his foot on the accelerator, and the speedometer finally read something more normal.

"And second of all, stop mumbling to yourself! It's so annoying, and it looks like you're being possessed!" I know; I'm a harsh and criticizing daughter, but he knew that about me ever since I turned three and told Mom that her sparkly blue nail polish just didn't match well with her skin tone.

"Fine. Now, will you please get on with your reasoning? It better be some good reasons, otherwise I'm going to send you to the moon." He said while his fingers around the steering wheel tightened.

"Dad, I've got two reasons for you: I'm just telling it like it is, and I'm telling them the TRUTH." I said. And it was true; I was intending for the paparazzi to hear what I had to say on the radio interview and then publish it into the magazines so I could have my name cleared of like "brute masculinity" and "One Winged Angel's bad luck charm".

Dad only sighed, wiping his brow clear of sweat. "Didn't you read the article this morning in the newspaper?" I shook my head, although the title was coming back to me now…something about Fang, and me…and me becoming his guardian angel?

Just as I was about to ask Fang about it, Dad steered the car into an empty back parking lot, and all of us swerved in the back seat. "Photo shoot time!" Fang said in a sing-song voice.

* * *

My day could NOT have been worse.

And I can tell you, for those aspiring to become a supermodel and have that 'natural poise and grace' you see in fashion magazines, photo shoots will be no sweat for you.

For those (Like me) who don't have any experience, who are impersonating for their twin brother, dislike taking high-class photographs and also dislike having to pose such sexy postures with Fang, photo shoots have become the death of me.

At first, as we had walked into the bright studio with numerous spotlights glinting in different directions, I thought our photo shoot wouldn't be that bad. I mean, we were just wearing clothes, posing them, and then waiting for a week until our photos appear in Seventeen magazine, right? Simple stuff!

**_NOT._**

I was forced into a white tuxedo, quite similar to the one I had worn for the press conference a couple days earlier while the rest of the members were taking their individual shots. I stepped out into the darkened room, and suddenly…

"There you are!" I felt a painful tug on my arm and drag me into the white screen. I was about to collapse, just as Fang gripped my arm tight to keep me from falling.

"Who was that?" I asked, shaking off my arm. Fang sighed. "You've met Catherine, haven't you?" I looked up to see a blonde woman, her fashion sense totally reminding me of Dad before he met Mom.

"I have now." I replied. Suddenly, Catherine bounded towards us; her face was filled with every single positive emotion. "I have the PERFECT idea for a photo shoot, just the two of you sweethearts!"

"Uh…what?" I didn't like where this was going.

"Let's just say…" Catherine began to stroke an imaginary beard on her chin with her long, paint-splattered fingernails. "A lustful, passionate…"

No. No.

"Romantic love between the two of you! I mean, Ari, your facial features are so feminine-looking, and Fang, with your masculine charms, Seventeen magazine will be FULL of readers this month! And this is just the photographs, not even including the exclusive interview that they're going to set you up on!"

"No way! Never!" I cried, putting my arms up and arranging them into an "X". "It'll be fun!" Catherine insisted while grabbing my hands and pushing me into Fang.

I sighed and nodded, while Fang only smirked. It's been the seventh time already; how annoyingly…gorgeous.

So that was how it went for the next half an hour. For now, I had my head cradled with Fang's right arm while I was looking down at the white rose clutched in his hand. "Enjoying the view, Ari dear?" He asked mockingly, talking about how I had a full blown view of his…ugh.

"No, Fang," I said bitterly. "I enjoy having my head in your arms, and I also would love it if I could bite down on that thorny rose in your hand." I had to say, it DID look painful, with all those tiny annoying thorns that could pierce your skin easily.

Fang grinned while lifting my head so I faced him, and we smiled a fake grin towards each other while he handed me the rose. "It's just a prop, stupid. Take it before Catherine loses her cool and says we have to kiss."

I was still stuck onto Fang like glue for the hour, and (believe it or not) our postures were beginning to have more and more body contact, if the head thing wasn't bad enough. For example, while I was sitting on one edge of a bench, his back was touching mine, and so were the backs of our heads.

"Ann is so going to love this! You guys did an amazing job; she's going to be so pleased!" Catherine cried ecstatically from behind the camera. I snorted. Ann was going to love these photographs? Or Catherine was going to love the praise and appreciation for coming up with such a "brilliant idea yet captures the innocence of a first love"…and not to mention the new Mac she might be purchasing for getting a raise at work? I'm never going to know, and I don't want to be the first to find out.

Finally, after a gruelling two hours of hard work, the photo shoot was officially done. "Great job, guys! All of you could be my models and I would love to muse for new ideas with One Winged Angel…I could do so much more…if only I lived in Los Angeles…" Sighing half-heartedly to herself, she packed up her equipment with her assistants, and we (All four of us, Dad included) ran off before she could hire us to model for her again.

I'll admit: Catherine is quirky, strange, weird…but her "first love" idea with Fang WAS actually…not too bad…

If only I was a girl that was posing with Fang though; I would get a LOT more comfortable…

* * *

After everybody went to sleep, Ari video-called me. I frowned as I looked at the image before me; more water bottles, more crepe wrappers, bits of mushrooms and ham clinging onto the red carpet, and of course, the lovely "Jessica" sleeping on her side.

"Does your girlfriend have nothing else to do, other than sleep? 'Cause for the past few times we've video-called, she's fast asleep."

Snore, snore, snore.

I dropped my voice to a whisper. "And she snores like DAD. How can you stand it?"

Ari rolled his eyes at me. "Whatever, sis. I love my Francesca!" He abandoned the topic quickly, and his eyes began to light up excitedly. I raised my eyebrows. "What's up? Did you get another box of fancy schmancy chocolates? To apologize for abandoning your sister to become an idol singer for YOU?"

"No," He scoffed, as if the idea was absolutely ludicrous, and to Ari - sadly - buying gifts for me was always a ridiculous idea. "Did you read the blog post on Fang's blog?"

My tired eyes finally snapped opened in surprise. "_WHAT?_" Ari chuckled. "You're always so slow on everything!"

"Maybe that's because I had to go on a radio interview, have an embarrassing photo shoot with Fang and I touching in every shot, and deal with your sarcasm that I don't have time to read non-factual entertainment articles?" I snarled.

Ari gave a low whistle. "Woo, boy, ease up on those kitty claws, Max." Suddenly, I received an e-mail from him, and I opened it quickly to see what the "blog post" was.

Opening it, I was directed to another page that said, in big bolded letters, "**WELCOME TO**: Fang's Blog!" I also discovered several things: I was on Fang, AKA One Winged Angel's leader's, blog site, I was Visitor Number 9, 329, 154 and he had written an entire blog post yesterday on…me!

I skimmed through the blog post, but my smile was widening the more I was reading. "EEK!" I shrieked loudly, so loudly that Ari had to cover his ears. "DO YOU WANT TO WAKE UP MY DARLING?" He bellowed angrily.

"I think you just did," I chuckled as I nodded towards the stirring figure on the bed. "Well now…that explains the strange entertainment tabloid headline this morning!" I pretended like I didn't care by pulling on a poker face, but Ari could see through me right away: I was glowing from happiness that One Winged Angel's overly cocky leader, Nicholas Fang Whatever-the-heck-his-surname-is, helped me overcome my first "crisis" as an idol singer.

"Don't lie to me, sis!" Ari teased while constantly staring, dazed, at Francesca. "Y'know, you should read the comment I posted on the blog post…unfortunately, he never responded to me."

I instantly froze; not because there was a chill or anything, but because I know Ari doesn't give a crap about the consequences of his unstoppable motor-mouth. "W-what did you write?"

Ari sighed while plopping his chin on his clenched fist, while sighing with mock adoration. "Well, I thought it was sweet that he decided to write an entire blog post on you to clear up on the issue. Then, I had this total mind image thing y'know? A sort of…prediction? That somebody you will be toasting your friends at your wedding, WITH Fang! So I wrote an entire essay on how you and Fang should date…'cause there is just so muuuch chemistry and looove…"

If I was where Ari was, equipped with a bazooka, I would've shot him and his baby-making essentials to the moon. "ARI! HOW COULD YOU? YOU ARE SO EMBARRASSING!" I literally half-screamed at him.

Ari was snorting loudly, which was rousing Francesca even more so. Ah! Another good idea has popped in my brain! "Well…" I began once I calmed down, my voice rising in volume. "I suppose you're right. BUT remember, I'm still Max, not truly Ari, so I do question your sexuality right now."

He instantly stopped laughing, but oh boy, payback time was coming and I wanted to put it to good use. "Where are you going with this…"

"Because it SEEMS TO ME," I was shouting loudly now, but I was fine since it was twelve thirty in the morning, and everybody in the household seems to have extremely prompt sleeping schedules. "THAT YOU LOVE FANG MORE THAN YOU LOVE FRANCESCA!"

Immediately, Francesca woke up from her sleep, rubbing her bleary eyes. "Is that what I'm hearing?"

**Stomp, stomp, stomp.** Oh, revenge is just so _suh_-weet!

"I do not like to be fooled with, Ari, especially…" Krick, krick is the satisfying sound of cracking knuckles! "Since I'm currently carrying your baby inside my uterus…"

_DANG _girl! She knows the names of a woman's reproductive system? I totally approve of her to become my sister-in-law.

_**BAM! POW! BAM! POW! **_

"I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS!" was the last thing a gleeful Maximum Ride heard before she signed off of Skype, and headed off to bed.

* * *

During the entire week, we've had the same hectic schedule: Performances every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, squeezing in a couple photo shoots for Teen Vogue and that tween magazine that I don't remember the name of, Tiger or Twist Beats (It made everyone hurl because of the frilliness and violent shade of pink), practices and vocal lessons, composing new songs, filming a music video and so, so much more that I can't list right now.

Right, right, one more thing: Catching up on my mom's horrendous amount of e-mails that flooded my inbox.

Well, it's been at least a week and half since debuting in One Winged Angel as a new idol singer and artist, but I've got to say, I could get used to life like this…I mean, aside from all that paparazzi crap, I could indulge on "Y" amount of chocolate éclairs instead of sticking to Mom's crazy diet, AND I got to pick up playing the piano again!

Life just gets better when you've got a small fan base too. After Fang's blog post, my sudden ranting on the radio show with DJ Parker, and some "leaked" photographs from the Seventeen photo-shoot, I actually…gained…(Dramatic drumroll please!)

**MORE FANS!**

Yep, that's right: I had at least two pages worth of topics on my own "Ari" forum now on the official One Winged Angel fan page, and flame wars on YouTube videos of One Winged Angel. And no, if you're asking, they WEREN'T comments bashing me, but to PROTECT me from the bashers!

Total score, eh?

Okay, Fang did have some (Okay, make that a _LOT_) participation in making me popular day by day, and I've got to hand it to him: His blog post and Catherine's totally whacko idea of putting us together as "lovers" for the photo shoot really helped me.

Apparently, the fans just can't get enough of our "gorgeous charisma and mind-blowing chemistry", how I stay true to my values and to myself, and (Believe it or not!) several have started a few Fanfics on some websites about me and Fang. I wasn't too keen on the idea, but hey, this did signify a healthy growth in my fan base right?

So anyways, here we are in the cramped little car with our (Mine, Gazzy and Iggy's truly) heads bobbing up and down, going with the flow of Dad's bumpy driving while we headed to another television studio for one more performance of "Promise".

I swear to God, our promotions for the song should be finished by now. I was getting SO SICK of singing the same "I love you forever!" while clutching the microphone, "gazing intently" into the eyes of our adoring crowd and – oh yeah – whip my head around until I got dizzy.

Once we reached the parking lot, I jumped out of the car immediately with Gazzy, and we rushed off towards the door that leads to the dressing rooms. Gazzy opened the door for me with a boyish smirk on his face. "After you," He said while directing his arm towards the air-conditioned cramped room.

Smiling, I nodded and walked in, only to find myself facing my most dreaded human being to see of all time. Yeah, that's right: The copper-orangey-haired President Marian Jassen.

Hey eyes literally lit up behind her uncool-looking spectacles (They were blue; come on! And circle lenses? Puh-lease; how old was she? Seventeen?) when she saw me walk in and freeze in my tracks. She literally ran towards me and pulled me in for a huge hug…

While also caressing my back with her leopard-patterned nails.

Like hello? Ew?

Number one: Suffocating in toxic fumes of green apple and skunk is extremely hazardous to my health.

Number two: I dislike being man-handled by a grown woman of forty!

"Ari!" Her voice tried to sound alluring. I'm so glad I had digested my lunch consisting of a tuna fish sandwich already: If my digestive system was malfunctioning, I would've puked up sour-smelling tuna and gunky pieces of bread ALL over the Prez. "I haven't seen you since the welcoming party, sweetheart! How have you been, baby?"

She is infatuated with my male alter ego, but she talks to me like I'm her toddler or something. Okay, GROSS! That mental picture was SO not needed in my brain.

"I've been um – good, but you might want to re-think the manicure, Prez. You look like you're off on a safari or something." I commented with my last breath.

After a looooooooong moment of hugging, she FINALLY released me and I was able to breath. For the time being, anyway. The Prez clasped her…leopard claws (Hardi-har-har, I'm just so hilarious, aren't I?) together. "Oh, well…Ari, my goodness, time flies, doesn't it?" She said energetically. "Today is actually your fifth performance, and for doing such a job well done…"

More bodily contact; I need to sanitize my entire body tonight.

"I just want to treat you out to dinner!"

Okay…

Oh, my God. This is a serious FML moment, I'm not even kidding. If you see something like this:

_Today, my boss asked me out to dinner. This wouldn't be too bad if my father doesn't have a ginormous crush on her, but she ignores him and is totally infatuated with me despite the BIG differences in our ages, hence my father suffering from a severe case of sour grapes. Right, right, did I also mention that I'm actually a girl who has to look like a guy for the time being? FML._

Yeah, you know whose it is: It's **MINE**.

Just then, the rest of the members (And my dad included) walked into the room while Gazzy bounded over to them and informed them of my supposed "date" with the Prez. Iggy started to pout, looking oh-so-adorable with his mop of strawberry-blonde hair that covered his eyes. "You never, EVER took US out to – YEOW!"

I had to stifle a snigger; Fang stomped his foot painfully on Iggy's, but something on Fang's face told me he wasn't feeling too hot about this whole date thing.

"Um, Prez, thanks for the offer bu –" Suddenly, Dad butted in, with an overly-friendly smile on his face. "Ari's so thankful to have such a wonderful CEO like you! He'll meet you at the hotel restaurant at seven thirty, sharp!"

…

Way to go, _Dad_.

The Prez shot me a warm smile (No, make that a "creepy smile"). "Excellent," Prez said, completely satisfied.

Oh yeah, and if things couldn't get any worse with your own surging-in-jealousy Dad arranging a date for you with someone you don't even like, she wrapped her arms around my neck (EEK!) and kissed my…

Cheek. (_**DOUBLE EEEEK!**_)

"I'll see you at seven thirty," She whispered in my ear and let me go, while I stepped back with trembling feet, completely traumatized.

My Inner Girl was longing to burst forth like a swan and shout at her for spoiling my non-kissed apples. But no, I couldn't; I reminded myself of the job I had to do, in order for my father to not get fired from his job as a manager of One Winged Angel.

Instead, I narrowed my eyes at my guilty-looking father/manager, who was avoiding total eye contact with me. "Thanks a lot, Jeb. Now I'm going to have to put up with this leopard-skinned cougar for the entire night!"

* * *

"It looks PERFECT on you, Ari dear, just PERFECT."

I grimaced while glancing at myself in the mirror. "Shut up, Gazzy." I groaned loudly, ruffling my messy hair with my hands. Iggy only smiled while he reached into the jacket closet near the front doors, and with fumbling fingers, he started to feel every single jacket's fabric, and (Finally!) managed to yank out a sleek-looking black leather jacket.

"Wear this! You look so…boyish right now; like the cutesy boyish type where all the girls think you're gay because you're dressed well, not the 'I'm a bad boy, but I know how to dress well enough so I don't get mistaken of my sexuality' type." He explained while forcing me into the overly large and warm jacket.

"Gee, Ig, you make everything seem so reasonably…logical." I commented under my breath while I tried to roll back the sleeves and zip it up. "You see, I'm not the bad-boy-yet-not-gay type, but I'm only wearing this so the rain won't get on Gazzy's sweater."

I looked at Gazzy, who had his hands clasped together and rested underneath his cheek. "Oh, starry night! If only I were a girl, Ari, then I would totally date you."

Hmmm, not a bad idea: Imagine Gazzy in a pink flouncy and poufy-looking gown with long blonde hair in a side ponytail, and I, in a dashing looking pair of forest-green tights, carrying a gleaming, golden sceptre while cuddling with my beautiful Princess Gazzylina in my ultra-long and warm fur cape.

What a lovely scene, eh?

"Um, I'm guessing I should take that as a compliment? But thanks!" I said while stepping into my shoes. Just before I was about to leave, the bathroom door opened and Fang – complete in his usual black sleeping attire and wet, scruffy black hair – came out, rubbing his hair with a towel.

In a quick, swift movement, he tossed his dirty clothes into the hamper and literally jumped down the stairs two by two. "Fang!" I scolded angrily. "Don't run on the stairs; WALK! Not only could you break your neck, you could also damage that lovely staircase!"

Yes; as a girl, I love interior-decorating (Surprise, surprise!) and furniture. I fell in love with those amazingly cool-looking "floating steps" the minute I set my eyes on them. Don't judge me! You'd love them too! I know you would!

Fang rolled his eyes. Typical, then he started to cluck his tongue in sympathy. "I feel so bad for you right now, man. Anybody who had a date with the Prez…" His voice lowered to a hoarse whisper; y'know that stupid "Tales from the Crypt Keeper" show where they showed a green skeleton dude and told a new horror story for every single episode? Yeah, Fang's voice sounded EXACTLY like his.

"No one ever came out from the restaurant alive without a good requested two hours of moans and more."

In anger, fury, frustration and any sort of violent emotion and (Yes, surprisingly) amusement, I pushed Fang against the wall playfully. "The Prez is just sooo in love with you, man. It's like love at first sight for her!"

I rolled my eyes. "One, there is NO such thing as love at first sight! It's more like 'lust at first sight', or I'm good 'eye candy'." I shrugged while watching him gaze at the roof intently. I followed his eyes. "What's up there? Cupid?"

He laughed along with me, but when his eyes met mine, they hardened immediately. His beautiful crooked grin (It's the eighth time now!) didn't quite match his eyes. Something in that smile…was just so uneasy and…I don't know…stiff?

"Just…" He looked like he had something else to say, but he shook his head and discarded the idea WHILE droplets of cold water splashed onto my face. "Have fun." Something was wrong with him, and even though I had a talent of reading people and their expressions, Fang wasn't an open book. And as a closed book, I couldn't tell what was bugging him.

"I cannot believe that Marian asked you out to dinner, and what about me? I don't get anything at all! I've help order lunch for her, paid dinners for her, organized a surprise birthday bash for her sixteen-year-old niece, worked for her for at least a year and a half, and was also named Manager of the Month!" Dad whined while tears were spurting from his eyes.

"I know, Dad, I know. Life is being a total bitch. We're on the same boat." I mumbled, extremely annoyed while crossing my arms against my chest sleepily.

"Maximum, please tell me the truth. Am I losing my manly essence?" His eyes looked fearful in the rear-view mirror.

"No, Dad. Your man stench is still bearable but not totally gross, and those chest hairs of yours turn ladies on. The Prez just doesn't know what is valuable to her."

His eyes started to light up. "So, do you think I should wear more V-neck shirts? You know Brigid, right? The secretary from the first floor? She complimented me and my style! I think I should wear more V-neck shirts…"

"Dad, just do what you did to win Mom's heart. That's pure gold advice, right there."

"I won her heart by wearing a chicken suit while working at my part-time job as a teen at KFC."

"Then um…"

"No, you're right, Max! I should order a costume of her favourite fast-food chain and serenade to her at night! Thanks for the advice! Anyways, here we are! Enjoy your…"

Whimper.

"DATE!" Dad immediately started to bawl. I could only rub his back comfortingly while mentioning to him that he's still got his manliness and shouldn't be too worried about his platonic relationship with the Prez. I mean, I'm a girl! I like men! I don't like women, especially women who have fake breast implants and are "cougars". You've seen Cougar Town; you know what they are.

* * *

"I dislike the smell of the hotel, but the good thing is that the sirloin cuts like butter."

It turns out that the so-called "restaurant" was actually located in a five-star "hotel", where the Prez actually has her own private deluxe suite. Good grief.

While I wolfed down on my entrée, the Prez – looking ridiculously cheap and low in a slim tight-fitting emerald green dress that had a neckline plunging down to her waist of thick love handles – barely poked at her salad. I mean, greens and mushrooms.

"What are you on? A low-carb and no-meat diet? Are you a vegetarian or something? 'Cause either way, you're still forty and yet you already have thick love handles." I commented rudely while my mouth was filled with beef.

Ignoring my remark, she crossed her legs and asked, "I'm glad you're enjoying the meat, Ari. Please tell me…do you prefer…juicy and tender meat or something with less fat on it?" She immediately tried to suck in her stomach. Please; if you know you've got fat around your abdomen area, don't wear something that doesn't accentuate your curves, but just highlights the fat around your belly!

"I guess…" I scratched my head while putting my knife down (Six minutes and four minutes; a new record!) "I think I would prefer juicy and tender meat. So much more delicious! Have you ever tried Manager Jeb's seasoned T-bone? It's delicious with a side of mashed potatoes."

Oh, God, what am I doing? I'm making conversation with the PREZ when I'm supposed to be totally creeped out by her! Fine, fine, I admit for once: The Prez seems like a good person to have a conversation with, and sure, I guess she is "sort of" good company…

"Really, now? I suppose I'll have to try…those T-bones when I visit One Winged Angel's villa soon."

Okay, nevermind: Forget what I just said. You know what she's doing? She's dragging her plunging neckline so deep that her breasts are literally popping out and are screaming, "LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!"

I shivered, partly because it grossed me out, partly because it reminded me of those cliques back in Washington when they used to drag their necklines down to show their goods to the open public, and MOSTLY because every single man (Including the bar tender who was approximately twenty feet away from our table) gaped with their mouths wide open with drool dripping from their lips.

I shook my head, and then excused myself to use the restroom. Hopefully, the puke hasn't travelled so quickly, right?

…

On second thought…better sprint to the first open cubicle in the bathroom!

* * *

_**(President Marian's Point of View)**_

"Quit staring at me, you freaks!" I cried after watching Ari disappear into the men's bathroom. I pulled the neckline back up while fuming disappointedly.

Was Ari the type of men who disliked women who showed off too much of their bodies? What must it take for me to win his heart?

Ever since I had seen his photograph attached to his biography, something in my heart became attracted to him: I wanted him, I needed him, I _lusted _for him and I wasn't going to give up so easily. What I craved for…I was going to get it, and tonight was that night.

Quickly, I peeked at the bathroom door for any signs of movement, and I dug into my purse to pull out a wrapped bag of date rape powder. Making sure no one was looking, (Which was kind of troublesome, because I mean, I am such a gorgeous women that all of these average bozos can't even keep their perverted eyes off of me!) I slid all of the white contents into Ari's Coke, and smiled deviously while watching it dissolve.

"Ari, Ari, Ari…we shall enjoy ourselves…tonight…"

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

I finished puking in the toilet in a minute. Just kidding; I was only peeing but I WAS on the verge of puking in the restaurant.

I exited the bathroom door and walked back to my table. "Are you feeling sick, Ari?" My Inner Girl was rolling eyes, but I pulled on a smile anyways. "No, and your concern isn't really necessary." I was highly surprised at the words that came out of my mouth. Fang had taught me that line, and my thoughts started to flicker towards him and his frustrated expression that I couldn't decipher just two hours ago.

"Perhaps you should take a drink of Coke." The Prez pushed the glass of soda towards me, and after hesitating for only a moment, I took a sip.

Ah, that felt refreshing.

But wait…

Everything…every little object and detail started to become hazy…

"Are you alright?" The Prez's voice was growing fuzzier by the minute, like I was trying to tune a really bad radio…

…

Everything was foggy, hazy, fuzzy…I couldn't take the terrible pounding in my head…

And just like that, I had blacked out in that restaurant.

* * *

"Just a little more…my God, why are the buttons on this sweater so hard to unbutton? I wouldn't be so careful if it were somebody else…"

H-uh? While I slowly woke up, the memories of the horrible ordeal of taking a sip of soda and blacking out in the restaurant started to flood back into my brain.

Where was I? And what was I doing here? I was totally oblivious right now; and I'll admit, it's terrifying to not know where you are after you've been knocked out by drinking a tablespoonful of soda.

The room was filled with a ghastly familiar stench of skunk fumes and granny smith apples, and several candles were lit on the glass coffee table.

Here I was, on a comfortable queen-sized bed with…with…

**_A HALF-CLOTHED BODY FIGURE GETTING READY TO RIP OPEN MY UNBUTTONED SWEATER?_**

My brain was on red-alert at that moment, but I was still under the influence of date rape. With my weak fists, I started to pound against the moving figure, only to see a speck of emerald green and to my horror, it was the PREZ that was ripping Gazzy's borrowed sweater open.

"Stop, stop…" As much as I was feeling enraged with the Prez, my voice sure didn't show a lot of anger. "I've been patient with you long enough, Ari Ride." She snarled, almost viciously. "You don't show any sort of emotion towards me, so I've got nothing else to do but use date rape and seduce you myself!"

"But…" Oh, God. If she rips open the sweater at any moment, she's going to find out that I'm a girl! But if I let her continue to strip me down, she's going to find out that I'm a girl. Either way, this is a lose-lose situation!

...What's more important, Maximum? Your father's job where he could always get a new one, or your body!

...

I can't let myself be violated of my personal self by a female! Sorry, Dad, but I don't want my first to be…a grown WOMAN. Gathering all of the little strength that I had, I shielded my chest away with my arms and shouted, "Stop! I've got breasts and I'm not afraid to use them!"

There was that utterly amazing moment of awkward silence.

The Prez instantly froze, her hands were just about to lift my shirt up. After a full minute of the grandfather clock ticking, she cocked her head towards me and said, "WHAT?"

"I said…" I began slowly, my heart thudding. "I've got breasts, and I'm not afraid to use them! See?" I lifted up my shirt.

And just like that, the Prez screamed for dear life and fainted.

Was I going to be in a mountainous pile of trouble after the Prez wakes up?

Yes.

But I didn't get violated by those manicured hands! I guess I could change this to a Win-Lose situation.

…

Should I say, saved by my own breasts?

Totally, man…

* * *

**There you have it, boys and girls! The latest chapter of My Fair Lady! As always, thank-you to those who have: Reviewed it, favourited it AND put it on your story alert list! You guys are always the best, always rock my socks off and I really want to say thank-you for reading my story! By the way, a HUGE thank-you to Melanie (AKA MidNyteMelody on Fanfiction) who was the one that gave me the idea to write the comments of the blog-readers on Fang's blog! Haha, I even made a small dedication to you! XD Enjoy!**

**So like always, constructive criticism, feedback and reviews are always a MAJOR YES! Hopefully, Chapter 9 won't have to be delayed for two weeks. Unfortunately, certain circumstances may have to keep me from writing for awhile XD LOL. Just kidding! Do not fear, amazing readers! Sam C: will update as soon as she can! In the meantime, enjoy Chapter 8! Right now, it's like 12:12 AM. I should go to sleep now before I wake up at six thirty to go to Band. HAHA! Talk to you guys later!**

**Luff,**

**Sam C:**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys! It's Sam C: here, updating (Finally!) after a month-long hiatus! I'm sorry for the supremely late update; as many of you guys know, I'm in Grade 12 right now, so I can't stay up as much as during the summer to finish writing up chapters. But never fear, I'm not dead, neither is my passion for My Fair Lady! I would REALLY REALLY want to send you guys a HUUUGE shout-out, as we've reached ninety-six reviews! Remember Chapter 1 when I had seven? It gradually started to increase, and of course, all of your comments, feedback and wonderful constructive criticism can only help me improve as a writer, but make me happy as well! Keep them coming guys! I'll treasure every single one of them! I love you guys a LOT, so I hope you enjoy Chapter 9! So it's not as long as Chapter 8 (With twenty pages; wow!), but it has fifteen pages. I hope it's not too short! In the meantime, I promise that I'll work harder to update "My Fair Lady!" **

**Fang - WHERE WERE YOU?  
Sam C: - School. Duh.  
Max - I missed you.  
Nudge - A LOT.  
Angel - A LOT, A LOT.  
Iggy - I started to cry!  
Sam C: - Are you serious, or are you just pulling my leg? Sam :C does NOT like liars...  
Gazzy - WHO WANTS WAFFLES?  
Sam C: - OH MEEE MEEE! Hang on...are they edible?  
Gazzy - Yeeeesh ma'am!  
Iggy - No ma'am! Gazzy LIES!  
Sam C: - I trust Iggy more than you, Gaz. Sorry, pal.  
Gazzy - NOO! WHY DO YOU HAVE NO CONFIDENCE IN ME?  
Total - Sam C: does own My Fair Lady, but does NOT own James' Patterson's creative mutant-hybrid character thingies.  
Max - THINGIES? You are SO DEAD TOTAL.  
Ella - On with the story!  
**

* * *

Did you know that my favourite things include sweet homemade apple crumble and waffles by Dad, sadistic short stories, piano sheet music and the piano, and of course, upsettingly sad Japanese animal movies?

Unfortunately, none of my favourite things are available at the moment. In fact, I was forced to deal with an upset and furious forty-year-old woman. I also had to deal with apologies, manic sobbing, fainting women and yelling, which are (In fact) the four most unbearable things for me. Well, I guess they are bearable, since we now have hot chocolate mix and green tea to make things a teensy bit better.

Okay, correction: I only have green tea, while the idiotic and shocked Prez (Who was actually on a diet) – after discovering that her "boyish plaything" wasn't totally male and lacked a penis – started dissolving two packages of hot chocolate per five minutes.

"Are you trying to gain weight again?" I asked while uplifting my eyebrow. The Prez glared at me like a falcon, with a steely glint in her eye; ooh, golly gee, I'm so scared!

Not.

"Don't you dare open your mouth and speak, you…you male-impersonating heartbreaker. Otherwise, I'm going to castrate you." She warned, ripping open another hot chocolate package and dissolving it in boiling water from the kettle. From the corner of my eye, I read the label: 160 calories per packet. She drank ten cups already in a twenty five minute period. Let's see…one hundred and sixty calories multiplied by ten equals…a staggering one thousand and six hundred calories. Wow, even Mom wasn't that ultimately extreme when she broke up with her first boyfriend after getting back into the dating game.

And to think, I thought wolfing down four chocolate sundaes in one night after a brutal soccer defeat was bad enough.

"Wow, you're stupid," I shot back, crossing my arms against my very bra-free chest. "Did you get my totally bold statement that 'I'm a girl'? 'I'm a girl' signifies that Mother Nature drops me a visit monthly, and there is an entire week where I get grouchy. This also means that I do not have a penis, in which you can castrate with your two-inch cougar claws."

Mumbling darkly, the Prez stirred her chocolate drink with a spoon and pointed at the leather couch which was opposite from her poppy-red love seat.

"Sit."

I sat.

"Now…" She began slowly, while I started to listen to the rhythmic clink, clink of the spoon. It was driving me crazy already in ten seconds. "Explain."

I rolled my eyes; it was like taking a test in life. A complicated test, for that matter!

Short Answers of Maximum Ride Has a Terrible Life Test

Question One: Explain the reason why Maximum Ride was forced to impersonate for her twin brother, Ari Ride, as an idol singer in a clear, concise way without using vulgarities, slang or bad language. Neatness and spelling counts!

Question Two: Hypothesize whether Maximum Ride will be able to get out of this mess after she explains her purpose.

Question Three: Determine if Maximum Ride should shut up with her mental examination and get along with the explanation before President Marian Janssen pops her head off, like an "all-shook-up" soda pop cap on a bottle of Coke/Diet Pepsi (I don't care; take your pick).

"Don't you dare roll your eyes at me, Ms. Sarcasm. I want to know the truth. If you do not cooperate nicely with me, I can end your singing career, just like…" She snapped her fingers. Wow. "That."

I snorted. "Go ahead, but I can assure you that my new Ari's aren't going to very satisfied with you. Take your pick; firing me out of anger and resulting in a plummet in album sales, and mobs attacking CME Intertainment? Or listening to my own purpose before making any regretful decisions?"

To my surprise, the Prez actually tucked a piece of distasteful copper-orangey goodness out of her eyes and began to sigh. It was also then when I realized she got a new haircut (Presumably just for this date, which is a total waste, of course): Totally banged-out and curled. So, so gorgeous, I remark satirically.

"And FYI," I began slowly. "Even if you do eventually fire me, and kick me out of One Winged Angel, you aren't going to get your boy toy to love you back, or uh, lust for you. My twin brother is already in love with another woman and…"

I took in a deep breath, hardly daring to believe the words that were going to emerge from my mouth any second now.

However, for his sake, for Francesca's sake, for my future niece/nephew's sake, I was going to say this. I loved my brother. Despite all of those times fighting, arguing about who was going to play with Aunt Mabel's new fire truck toy first, him making nasty comments about me being "The Half a Minute Brat" and me blackmailing him with a copy of him and his previous "honey bun" making love, I was – way deep down – very happy that he has found somebody.

Trust me; I know he actually loves his "Jessica" for once. How?

Before, he would NEVER, in the history of his life, take responsibility for those previous and way, WAY previous girls that he got pregnant, resulting in many single and broken-hearted women, along with tiresome lawyers and a very irritated Dad. I mean, even I got super-annoyed with his constant pleads for money from Dad to pay for his "Abby, Kitty, Danielle, Katherine, Ramona, Doris, Bethany" and – yes – a random Japanese girl with hair so cotton-candy coloured he picked up from China Town.

During that time, my distrust for my twin brother was slowly increasing. He was an irresponsible jerk, totally going by that extremely rude rule, "Hey, I kind of slept with you even though I don't know who you are. I'm not going to do anything about it, so catch ya later and don't tell your boyfriend about me!" What was it called? Um…one night stands?

Either way, he never used to care about those threat letters and demands and possible accounts of suicide he received in the mail. Look at him now! It has been at least two weeks since Francesca got pregnant, and he didn't run away a coward like he was before.

He's taking responsibility for somebody he loves, for once in his lifetime. He's fortunate to have found Francesca, and she him.

"They're madly in love and happy with each other and I am, proudly, going to become an aunt in ten months' time," I said boldly. Wow; I'm oozing so much charisma and charm that the Prez can't her eyes off of me. Dear Charisma: Please return sometime when I go back home and have to make "X" amount of presentations for school.

Glancing at her quickly, she started sniffling. I speak the blunt truth; she's whimpering like D.W. from Arthur. Oh, God, did I just say Arthur? I'm going to kill Gazzy later for forcing me to watch that one episode where D.W. climbs up this really tall and swinging pine tree.

The Prez was trying to keep her poise, but really, even for a strong career lady like her, discovering that your "lustful lover" was a female...was kind of devastating. I mean, the Prez is still a human after all; she can't keep her cool ALL the time, could she? I felt sorry for her; yes, REALLY, I did. My eyes softened, and I (slowly) sat next to her on the couch.

Ooh, leather. Great and comfortable material. **_OOH_**, purple. _Mental note: Must buy one - along with that salon chair at Antoine's (Whoops, I meant, Antoinette) - when I am rid from my captivity of impersonating my twin brother._

Once I sat down, she felt the sudden sag on the couch, and (Out of the corner of her eye) sent me this evil-looking "I shall not be offered sympathy by my fake boy toy" expression, but I felt terribly sorry and guilty when looking at her. I know, surprising words coming from Maximum Ride's mouth.

The poor thing has been starving herself for two months without proper food. Okay, okay, so I guess if you're like a total health enthusiast that drinks protein shakes and is trying to join the Olympics one day and aim for a gold medal, then sure, roughage and fibre is healthy, but really? Celery sticks, chopped carrots and smushed avocado for a grown woman of fourty-something? Women require MORE than just cellulose that doesn't even digest properly in our digestive system. Yes, I'm talking about meat. Meat, meat, meat. STEAKS! She needs a steak or two, even with her so-called "P-line figure".

As a young woman, I guess it would be my duty (Now anyway) to offer her anything necessary.

"I don't need anything," She spat viciously while wiping the corner of her mouth of chocolate foam.

Wow. Aging cat lady much?

"Still," I urged. Why did I even bother to trying? Something – an invisible, forceful pull by nature - tugged at my sympathetic heart to do it. My god, I'm such a poet these days; have I successfully found my muse? **_WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I WAS STUDYING POETRY IN ENGLISH CLASS_****_?_** "I understand how you feel."

Her sniffling immediately eased as she gave me a strange look. Like the "You don't seem to be the type to understand" kind of look; raised eyebrows, haughtily-raised chin and all. "Really?"

I lied. No, I haven't. I mean, with my lack of womanly essence, could I ever find a boyfriend? I guess there would be that one guy; a totally cute Galapagos turtle, but eh, not really my type. I didn't quite dig the way that he just HAD to be a head shorter than me, thus with the aid of a phonebook, could barely peck my lips like a chicken.

Oh, yeah, and one other tiny flaw that I take notice of right away: His body odour was literally unbearable. It was a magical, mysterious potion you would brew up in Professor Snape's Potions class: Add a mixture of Gazzy's digestive gases, combined with maybe a few sprinkles of athletes' foot fungus and topping it off with shredded gym socks of Dad's to create this delectable aroma.

"Okay, no. I fibbed, I lied."

She snorted, and then set her warm hot chocolate mug on the coffee table. Wrapping herself tighter in her bathrobe (As if it could get any tighter), she glanced at me. "Of course you would lie. You lack the motherly traits. Unlike me, you don't have the femininity that attracts males."

"Your rudeness has smartened." I observed rather coolly. There is just NO way was I going to put up with her attitude, no matter how guilty or sorry I felt for her, it doesn't give her the right for being rude and demanding to others. "I concur that I lack any sort of femininity, but it's not as if you are the perfect, ideal woman either. The world doesn't totally revolve around you, y'know. There are other people at CME, other than you and that humongous gopher-looking copper-haired head of yours."

Ha! I got her good; she can't reply with a good enough come back. Instead, she picked up her mug again, took a sip and then tapped her spoon gingerly against the glass. "Stop stalling time. Pick it up, and explain. For the next half hour, I'm listening."

It was also then when I reached up to pat my fluffy hair that I realized not only did my previous pimple not subside, my hormones are malfunctioning, thus causing more annoying red boils to pop up on my face. Too much stress! I was going to have to tell Ari about my health hazards later on.

* * *

"And really…that's basically it."

I had finished my story in fifteen minutes; a new record set!

Nervously, I fiddled with my fingers; yes, I know. It's a very bad habit of mine that I had abandoned long ago. Somehow, I picked it back up today. Just today. I knew this date was a bad idea: Thanks a lot, Dad!

The Prez had a very puzzled expression on her face after I finished my explanation. "There is just one thing that I don't understand."

"Shoot. I'm all ears for the time being."

"Why didn't you just…well…not help your father? To be honest, you weren't obliged to help him in the first place."

"That's true," I agreed, looking thoughtful.

"So…tell me why? What made you do it?"

"Why?" I scoffed, almost ridiculed by her simple question. "Because unlike the minority of cold-hearted mammals that reside on this earth, I do care about my father. I love him with my heart, even if we're some-long-distance of miles away. We're still a family. And secondly, well," I grinned cheekily. "Truth be told, I just don't want him hoarding my mother with phone calls for money to pay his bills with."

Believe it or not, the Prez laughed! For at least two seconds, she gave a rare (but hearty!) laugh during our hour-long conversation. "Also, I just can't bear it to see him upset or depressed." I continued, wrapping my hands together. "The economy still isn't going all too well, and I know my father needs this job. He can't lose it…mainly because of the income, and second…"

I bit my bottom lip, wondering if I should help Dad make his unknown love for the Prez known. She became wide-eyed. Wow, I also just realized that she's slowly becoming more polite. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful (I don't believe that these words are escaping from my mouth, buuut…) relationship.

"What? Tell me, I'm curious to know."

I stared at her, oblivious.

How could she (_**Honestly**_) not know! Was she too googly-eyed on me (I mean, Ari) to take notice of the little things that Dad does for her every single day? Take yesterday for example! He ran a mile to the nearby beach to give the Prez a bottle of sun-tanning lotion she forgot at CME! Like, honestly, there are literally no good-mannered (Or good-looking!) men in the world anymore! The Prez should feel privileged that such a kind and observant man (Like my father, _ahem, ahem!_) is in love with her!

"I just cannot bear to see him upset for tearing him away from the woman he loves so much. As much as I hate impersonating for my twin brother, as much as I hate waking up at five thirty in the morning for rehearsal time, I just can't bring myself to rip his heart to shreds, or see him cry." I finished, taking in a breath.

At that moment, the Prez clapped her hands like a seal. Like those performing seals. Ah, I got it; a copper-skinned clapping seal! Add a beach ball, a swimming pool and you're all set to go! "I knew it! I knew he was in love with Brigid, I did! You better warn your father though; news is breaking through the company like wildfire that Brigid is currently hooking up with the seventh floor's caretaker, Mikey. Or was it Johnny from L.A. Muzik? Either way, please warn your father. He's doing such a wonderful job with One Winged Angel, I don't want him to lose his concentration."

I rolled my eyes. "No, you idiot! Think carefully!" It was also during this time when I realized that the hour hand was on the ten, and the minute hand was on the thirty. It was ten thirty at night: Oh, dear God, everybody was going to freak out on me!

Honestly speaking, they didn't have to worry about me. I had money, I had my borrowed clothing. The only thing suspicious when I got back home would be why my clothes looked so shredded and ripped to pieces. Note to self: Send the bill to the Prez ASAP!

"Uh, listen up; I gotta go now since Dad is probably going to be very pissed off with me as to why I came home so late." I got up from the couch, wrapped the leather jacket around my arm and was about to head out the door when…

"Is it IMAge's manager, Sarah Ferguson?"

I stomped on the ground like a toddler. "Dude, you are so not observant! Remember that day at the press conference when you spilt all of the black coffee on the ground? Who was there to wipe it up for you?"

The answer came out smoothly. "Jeb."

"Who's the one that held a surprise birthday party for your niece for her sweet sixteenth even when nobody else was informed of it, buying the three-tier chocolate mousse cake and all? Don't ask me how I know about the cake; I just enjoy snooping in the house sometimes."

"Jeb." Simple and plain answer. Heh, soon enough, she's going to realize. "And you WHAT? You better put that stuff back where it belongs in the house!"

Okay, maybe not. The woman needs to **_TAKE A HINT_**.

"Who's the one who that asked for a pre-order on the sale of that Chinese icky herbal tea stuff just in time for your birthday this year, along with the card that wrote 'Happy birthday! I hope you enjoy the tea since I ordered it from China! May you always stay in good health and shape!'?"

"J…" Realization soon overcame her eyes, and I also sighed in relief.

"Ah," was the only syllable she could mutter out, her face matching the colour of her vividly fiery wisps of hair.

"Ah indeed, Prez Marie." I turned the doorknob into the deserted hallway and waved. "Later."

My work here is done. The game of love is now turned out onto the hands of fate, destiny, and of course, the Prez's acceptance for him. Will their story have a fairy tale ending? I'll never know!

For now though, I just want to go home and eat a chocolate sundae. Taking in all of that chocolate-y goodness in the suite made me crave for something sweet!

* * *

_**(President Marian's Point of View)**_

I had never thought of it that way before.

Could Ari's – I mean, Maximum's – words be true? That Jeb has been in love with me, sticking by my side no matter what decisions I make, and taking note of my personal likes and dislikes?

It just surprises me so much that I had never been observant to see who truly the "one" for me was. I mean, now that I know Jeb is kind of infatuated with me, it will definitely cause some awkwardness between us. I mean, for me, anyway.

I've known Jeb for…at least two years now! Has it already been that long? Has time passed by that quickly? So quickly that I never stopped to pause and think about him and his selfless acts for me?

_Bzzt._

I jumped slightly at the noise, glancing back at my cellphone that had vibrated once. Walking towards it, I flipped open my cellphone, and noticed that I received a text message. Yes, from him.

_From: Jeb Ride_

_Sent At: 10:53 P.M._

_Hello Marian, I just wanted say a quick good-night. Is Ari still at the hotel with you? If he is, send me back a quick text message. I know that you don't want to end the wonderful date with him, but he has an extremely busy schedule for tomorrow so he does need some rest. Thanks, much appreciated._

_To: Jeb Ride_

_Hello Jeb, that's very sweet of you; thanks! No, Ari left already. He's taking a cab back to the villa, so you don't have to worry about him. The date went well, but…_

My fingers started to slow down on the tiny keypad before me. What should I write next?

_The date was great, but I don't think I will like to go on another one with someone like Ari. Too young, too Ari, too HONEST; just not for me! He'll be back soon. Don't worry, relax, breathe, he's old enough to tell taxi drivers where to go. _

I thought I was done; I guess my fingers just didn't obey my mind.

_P.S. My nephew's tenth birthday is coming up, and I'm chaperoning this time since my sister is going to be out of town, and her dratted piece-of-garbage husband is clearly unable to host a birthday party for a ten-year-old. Would you like to come with me, buy party supplies, get a cake and such?_

_

* * *

__**(Max's Point of View)**_

"Was it a fun date?"

The voice alarmed me when I entered the house promptly at eleven twenty-one. Squinting through the darkness, I could make out a tall, lanky figure walking towards me.

Fang; who else could it be? Gazzy is just too busy catching up on Season 14 of Arthur on YouTube, and Iggy…well…he's just Iggy, and enjoys being in his room, secluded. And obviously, Dad will be doing something like reviewing over our schedules for the week, jotting down notes and Facebook stalking the Prez, copying and pasting her photographs into a secret folder somewhere in the Documents folder.

I chuckled. I have no idea why, but somehow, I'm quite gleeful. For the time being anyway; wait until next morning and if Gazzy uses the washroom first, well, you better watch out for a pouty-faced Maximum Ride. "Were you stalking me?"

Through the darkness, I could see him shrug, maybe with a half-smile on his face. He was more prone to smiling and smirking now; golly gee, I wonder who managed to make him so positive nowadays.

"Of course, Ari, I would use up my evening to stalk you from my room with a telescope to see if you arrived home safely." He mumbled sarcastically, leaning casually against the door frame while watching me strip off the leather jacket.

"Well, yes and no, if you want a truthful answer." I replied dully. "I found out a lot of interesting things about her. For example, she…"

Not enough fingers; drat.

"She was actually on a diet to slim down, and of course, she gained all that weight back now 'cause she's…" It was such a quick reaction; my upper jaw bit down hard against my tongue. _Damnit, Maximum, watch your mouth, otherwise, you're going to get more than sore tongues and little pinch marks all over your skin._

"She?" His tone was questioning as he glanced at me, leaning his body casually against the doorframe.

"She actually went on a diet for at least two and a half months so I would become attracted to her. Of course, it was devastating when I told her how I had felt and that I do not think a relationship of a thirty something year difference would work for me."

Not to mention the fact that she could (easily) give birth to me. Oh god, did I just say that? Mental image distortion time!

The lie came out easier than necessary, even I surprised myself for a bit. "Why aren't you going to sleep? We've got a busy schedule tomorrow."

"Oh, I know that, Ari. But it's just Gazzy and Iggy that have the terrible schedules. You are given the choice of whether you want to accompany them or not."

"Why aren't you going?" I asked curiously while removing my shoes.

Suddenly, he looked at me – no, more like glared. I haven't seen that look for at least three weeks now; when I'm face to face with the previous menacing and cold Fang for no specific explanations as to why I deserve such coldness from him, well, talk about terrifying.

"None of your business," He spat. Fang sounded angry for a moment, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. I couldn't help but glance back at him. His eyes, his expression: Both contained a pain that I could not comprehend what it was, even for an excellent observer like me.

"Fang…" I began, but he just shook his head. "Forget it, Ari. I'm going to sleep now. Make sure you lock the front door and set the alarm code."

"Did I do something?" Why couldn't my mouth just shut up when I wanted it to? Needless to say, my lips do not follow my brain. Something is going on in my head…and I mean, mentally speaking. I need to see a therapist…

"No, Ari." Fang started to look uncomfortable, and instead of more explanations, I was left facing an empty doorway and a dark figure walking quickly up the stairs. "Good night."

That night, I wasn't even interested in Skype-ing with Ari. All that boggled my mind was Fang, and his absolutely strange reaction to my simple question. I hope things work out in the morning though; please remind me to tell him that he should stop watching Glee, and read some self-help books!

* * *

**BEEP.**

**BEEP.**

**BEEP.**

**BEEP.**

In its annoying mid-beep, I slammed my fist down on my alarm clock that rested on my bedside cabinet. Whoops; time to tell Dad I need a new one.

I bolted upright in my mattress, rubbing my eyes at the sunlight that streamed through the curtain. Oh, my God. Even with the wreckage of a time-telling machine on my table, I could tell that it was ten thirty in the morning.

Why didn't anybody wake me up?

Oh, God, Dad, _you freaking suck_.

Quickly, I dashed down the stairs to find Gazzy, Iggy, Dad or even Fang for that matter, but to no avail. Suddenly…

My eyes fell upon the stack of boldly coloured cards on the sleek kitchen table. Picking it up, I began to sort through them.

It's actually quite scary, y'know? Seeing bold and bright colours early in the morning makes me hurl sometimes because I feel like I'm hallucinating, thus making me nauseous. Somehow, I managed to avoid that this morning (Thankfully).

**Happy Birthday Dude! Here's fifty bucks. Don't spend it all in one place!**

**-Gazzy**

**What's up, Fang? Man, you're twenty now! Hope you have a great day today resting, and not having to attend events that make me sick to my stomach! **

**-Iggy**

**Happy 20****th**** Birthday, Fang! May you be blessed with good health, improve endlessly in your musical endeavours and manage to FAGS! Yeah, I'm a cool forty-something year-old man. Your present can be found in your bedside table.**

Wow, Dad is just so hip and "in the zone" with the modern lingo. He knows FAGS. I hope he FAGS too, perhaps with the Prez? HAHA, only joking.

**Kay, like, Fang, you stupid retard! You didn't even tell me today is that special day your mother gave you life! Have an awesome b-day, honey! I love you; can't wait to see you again, my baby. Enjoy those photographs! It took me a long time to get the angle right so my curves will be accentuated. **

**-Lissa**

There are so many problems with this birthday card. One: Who calls someone a "stupid retard" on their birthday? And two: What? Is Lissa a saint right now or something? Can't you use "_birthday_"? Not "_the day your mother gave you life?_" Yup; no doubt about it, she watches Hannah Montana and her favourite character is probably Robby Ray.

Oh, and three: Who gives their naked photographs as a birthday gift? Ultimately just the most non-classiest thing to do!

**Happy birthday, Fang! The three of us – Nudge, Ella and I – have all pitched in our money to get you new earphones for your iTouch! We know it broke, and it's our fault: So sorry, man! These ones aren't as high-tech as your older ones (We're girls; we're not THAT tech-savvy, even for Nudge!), but they'll do!**

**-Nudge, Ella and Angel**

There's this annoying "Punch-in-the-gut" feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. NO, I refuse to believe that its jealousy. Why would I even become jealous of Fang in the first place?

Just one more birthday card to go, anyway…

**HBD lame-o brother. Dad would've sent you a card, but I told him not to: It's just going to be a waste of time writing one for you anyway. Hope you catch the swine, and wishing that it will confine you to bed for so long that you get kicked out of CME. You don't deserve to be at a facility so professional like that, Mr. Nobody.**

**And by the way, your HBD doesn't stand for "happy birthday". It stands for "Have a Bad Day". I hope you have a bad day.**

**-Emma Robertson**

"Which abysmally foolish person told you that you could rummage through my personal things!" I jumped at the thunderous rage that was clearly evident in Fang's voice. I whirled around as he stomped towards me, yanked the cards away from my grasp and stormed upstairs towards his room.

And to think, he gave me such a deep paper cut!

But yeah, I know: Karma's a big bee-otch in the butt. Or in my case, my ring finger.

Should I go apologize NOW? Ah, decisions, decisions.

As I tiptoed up the stairs, I suddenly began to realize Fang's crazy reaction towards me yesterday night. It was probably because of the fact that I forgot his birthday, which is…also clearly marked on the calendar in the kitchen…

Whatever! As if this is the important thing that should be dealt with right now!

It was also during this time when I reached the top floor that he had never closed his bedroom door. I started peeking from the corner of the doorframe, only to realize that heavy sniffles and deep breathing were emerging from his body.

...

No, I don't believe this.

I absolutely REFUSE to believe this.

I clamped my hand over my mouth so my gasp wouldn't be audible to his ears.

Fang is…crying…

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

I am generally not an emotional person; I'm just not the type to be all fussy wussy about trivial things. But when somebody I care about snoops through my things, well, I'm sorry to say that as a human being, even I will get angry.

Especially if it's Ari who is looking through my things…

Quickly, I stashed the birthday cards into my locked cabinet, and reached out for a photograph from long ago. It's been nearly two decades, this picture, but no matter how torn or ripped it may be, no matter how many times it has been dripped with droplets of water, it is a priceless gift.

"Mom," I whispered quietly, almost pleadingly. It's been fifteen years the last time I saw my mother, a current drug addict, and her love story that I clearly remember.

I recall those days. Mom and Dad met when they were back in university. She, a commoner living in a run-down neighbourhood with her widowed mother, had fallen in love with him, a wealthy playboy who had estates and mansions waiting for him. Yes, I don't know how it happened; miraculously, he ignored all those other women, anxious to be deflowered by him, and fell in love with my mother. Common, cliché love story, right?

So believe it or not, their families had accepted one another. Dad's parents loved Mom's grace and poise; Mom's mom loved his wealth, his success and his charm. Eventually, they got married, and of course, some intense making love occurred and, bam, I was born.

We were once a happy family; Mom, Dad and I. I emphasize on the "Once". Word slipped out from Dad's furious mother (In this case, my "Granny Olivia") that Mom only married Dad for his wealth. A big argument ensued, along with some punching, kicking, bellowing and tears.

Mom and Dad went through a bitter divorce, and I was sent to live with Mom. Together, we managed to find a small apartment on the outskirts of Los Angeles. It was small. We had tinned tomatoes on bread for dinner practically every single day, but needless to say, I was happy. WAS…happy…

Somehow, Mom lost her job working at the nearby law firm as a secretary. I was young, I didn't understand crap about life. All I knew was that I had to paint a picture of "my mommy in a pretty pink gown and her pet unicorn" was to make her happy, but happiness couldn't fill a rumbling stomach at night. A "pretty picture" drawn from day care could not give my mother a lifetime or a bucketful of happiness.

Mom began to scavenge the newspapers for work, with no success. What else could she do? When I was four, she started to bring in random men into the house. I never understood what they did in the bedroom: The moans, the groans. I thought they were playing Grounders in a cramped bedroom. It is only when I turned ten years old and I were in Sexual Education class that I understood what they did.

Dad didn't like it; he thought that she was becoming a bad influence on me. He requested that I be sent off to live with him, his newly married wife and her seven-year-old stepdaughter with a temper so big it could fill an entire mansion of his. No, wait, **TWO** mansions.

Mom did her best to protect me. She refused to let Dad's nifty-looking lawyers in big brand suits barge into our apartment. But I guess…the last straw came for her when she (Finally!) found a job with a minimum wage. Now, you would think that as a responsible, son-loving mother, she would celebrate with me with her success in the economy again. Guess what? It didn't happen, and it never happened even though I had bought a chocolate cake with my minimal allowance.

I guess she figured it would be a waste trying to fill two stomachs, and obviously, hers was still far more important than mine.

She was anxious to see me out of the apartment, and into my new family. Did I see tears erupt from her eyes when I walked reluctantly towards my new family? No.

Did she even care about my happiness? _No._

Did she bother to reach out to me for the last time before I would be emotionally abused by penetrating words from my step-sister and stepmother?

_**No.**_

For the past seven years of my life ever since I turned 11, I was forced into seven years of humiliation and embarrassment. For one, my stepmother and stepsister played a great game of pretend; faking their care for me in front of my father, and ruthlessly making me the humiliated target of their social gatherings. I quote: "That Fang never does anything right! At home, his father hates him so much. There was something wrong with the bitch, which affected this dumb shit of a child. I can't even understand how my brilliant husband could have such an idiotic son."

Did I try telling Dad? Of course I did! Now the only problem would be asking him to trust me…

Which, of course, he didn't. Thinking that I detested him for ripping me away from Mom, he never took the initiative to communicate with me. All he did was buy me a newtoy, and leave me in my room to play with it. Alone.

With my sister (Emma, as you might know) four years older than me, she became a successful model at the age of eighteen. I, honestly, never knew how she managed to become a model. No talent, cocky, hated by people of all ages and all genders, terrible attitude: Yeah, you've got the whole package of an unsuccessful star in the making. Heh, oh the irony.

Dad started to praise her for her achievements, such as "filming a terrible photo shoot for Calvin Klein! They had to cushion my breasts. Daddy, may I get breast implants please?"

And guess what? Dad was stupid enough to actually present Emma with a plastic surgery appointment for breast enlargement. Yeah, it was a great birthday that day for her; recovering for a month from the hospital, and now presently having to wear bikini tops that just don't fit her DDD cups.

I couldn't take any more of her crap, my stepmother's crap, or my dad's idiocy. When I turned eighteen, I ran away from home. I constantly crashed at my friends' places for sleep and food, and then I would be out on the road again for the entire day.

So of course, fate and destiny somehow set me up on a date with CME. I found out that they were having auditions for a new male rock group, took a shot at it and…well…obviously, you _**KNOW**_ the rest of the story.

Now, today…is in fact my twentieth birthday. I actually didn't necessarily "need" to take a break from those promotion events today for "Promise"; I just needed a big cry fest. Every single birthday I've had after being ripped apart from Mom, I would lock myself in my room so I could have the time mourning over the family that I once had.

Yup; I pour out all of my bottled-up emotions on my birthday. Sad, eh?

If you ever ask me if I'm angry with my mother, nine years ago, I would've said yes. But if you ask me if I'm furious with my father, two years ago, I would've said yes. Today, I'm entering a new decade in my life. I can't keep up with grudges from the past; it just hurts way too much.

"Mom," is the only word that emits from my mouth. "Dad," is the next word. I clutch the black and white family photograph close to my chest as the tears start falling.

Mom, Dad: If you can hear me now, I just want to tell you that I miss you. I miss you; I miss the family that we once were; I miss everything in the past.

Can I please have my one and only wish granted today?

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

Without a doubt, it was painful seeing Fang weep.

How often is it that many men cry? And the man you care about is crying on their birthday?

Biting my bottom lip, I slowly walked over to him and placed a tender arm on his shoulder. And to my surprise, he didn't shrink away or push my arm away, even after I snooped through his personal birthday cards.

"Are you okay?" I asked timidly. Fang only replied with a solemn nod. I knelt down to him at eye-level, and without any warning, he placed his head on my shoulder while the tears soaked up my sweater. Even my eyes were going watery; crap.

"Ari…tell me…tell me everything's going to be okay." His voice was broken like rubble on a sidewalk. My heart started to lurch painfully.

"Everything will be okay, Fang. I promise, I swear." I soothed, rubbing his back with my free arm.

"I trust you enough to know that everything will turn out okay." He could only sob; I could only console. I felt so guilty that I couldn't do anything to help him ease his pain.

"Sh. Don't say anything else." I swallowed as more tears welled up. "I just want you to be happy again." Suddenly, my eyes fell upon the open cabinet drawer filled with the bold coloured paper. Right, it's such a visually bright reminder for me to say something I forgot to say a couple minutes ago.

"Oh, and Fang?"

The only response that I got back was silence; but it was alright. It's alright as long as he's listening.

"Happy twentieth birthday. I didn't forget." I said sadly.

This time, he didn't respond back through words, but with his body. Slowly, but surely, he wrapped his strong arms around me as tight as he could, as if he were afraid of losing me as his only support system.

* * *

**DUN DUN DUNNN! What's going to happen next? Haha. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed Chapter 9! So much draaaammmaa and love going on in the story. XD With, of course, your two favourites coming together for an emotional moment! As always, constructive criticism, feedback and your lovely reviews are appreciated as much as you guys reading My Fair Lady!**

**So currently, in my time zone, it is approximately 12:09 AM! Better go to sleep since I gotta wake up early tomorrow...I'll write in the shout-outs next chapter! Thank-you, once again, for reading, reviewing, favouriting and setting My Fair Lady on your Story Alert! You guys are awesome. Have a great week guys! I'll see you guys soon! **

**Luff, **

**Sam C:**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys! It's Sam C: here, delivering the next chapter for My Fair Lady! I would like to thank you guys for helping My Fair Lady reach...(Drumroll please!) 100 reviews! It has been one of my dreams ever since I joined Fanfiction to write a story that could successfully get 100 reviews. And guess what? I did! And how did I do it? Obviously with your help! C: So thank-you once again, and I will try my best to update often! I updated a little bit quicker this time, thus leading to only a fifteen page chapter. :C If some of you readers are confused, not to worry! Fang's birthday will be finished by next chapter, I promise!**

**In the meantime...woo! It's getting pretty chilly for me in Canada now! I hope you guys are bundled up from the cold so you guys don't get sick!**

**Max - THERE YOU ARE!  
Fang - YES! BACK AND RUNNING!  
Sam C: - You mean...up and running.  
Angel - It doesn't matter, Sammmmy. I've missed you!  
Total - What have you been doing during your days anyway? I'm upset. Watch me die from severe sadness.  
Iggy - Total, the only way that you can die is either living until you're really, really old. Then again, you're not ordinary pup-  
Gasman (Imitating Iggy) - MUTT!  
Total - YOU SAID MUTT!  
Iggy - I DID NOT!**

**BAM! POW! BAM! POW!**

** Max - BREAK THEM UP! BREAK THEM UP!  
Sam C: - What am I going to do with the disclaimer now? Sadface.  
Fang - Sam C: does not own Maximum Ride. There. Done.  
Sam C: - NOOO! WITH FEELING!  
Fang - NOOOO!**

**

* * *

**

I'm not ashamed to admit that I have low EQ. Unlike my dead Granny who was always a "mellow fellow", I just don't have that inner zen that I can peacefully find when I'm in a vanilla-scented bathroom. When I'm mad, I throw things at the wall (Mostly pillows, not to worry). When I'm upset, I cry my eyes out, but not over trivial things like: "She stole my boyfriend!" (Since I lacked love during my high school years), "I got seventy-five percent on the latest test!" (Not to brag; I DID get straight A's) or "My crush likes somebody else!" And of course, when I'm happy, I remain completely neutral: A total Max Ride reaction. Unless it's something horrendously happy that can hit my heart like a bullet (Which is like once in a blue moon), then I do a highly embarrassing happy dance.

For Fang, the young man who has kept a well-developed poker face for the last few weeks that I was here, it was frighteningly awkward: A) To see him cry like a little baby and hug me like I'm his mother, and B) To have him squeeze me to death until I felt I was almost suffocating.

"Fang," I began slowly. As much as I loved comforting him, I had other obligations to do. I couldn't spend the rest of my day with Fang's arms around me, right? I mean no offense to him, and I obviously feel sympathy for him but…

"Fang," I said loudly, trying to back away. Yup, it didn't do any good. He only held on tighter.

Great…

"Fang, I can't help you like this. I know you're crying and you're hurting right now, but I need to understand what's going on in order for me to give you advice."

His voice turned so sharp and bitter, even I was afraid of him for a second. Half of a second; I don't get scared easily. "I don't need any freaking advice."

"Yes, you do!" I shot back. I was getting so annoyed now; crying was something that I just can't take for more than ten minutes. Yes, yes, I admit, even the waterworks started for me too when I saw his crumpled-up figure, drowning himself in barrels and barrels of tears, but with my infamously low EQ level, I won't stand for it for much longer.

With all of the strength I could muster, I pushed his arms off of me and stood up. His eyes were shocked with a sad (Maybe even angry) surprise. Even I shocked myself in my actions.

"What are you trying to say, Ari Ride?" His tone was becoming so menacing now. I backed myself up as he started towards me, eventually backing me up into the wall and placing two arms between my head. Yup, I was in a cage; there was no escape, no doubt about that (Unless you wanted to pick a fight with Fang. Then you're completely nuts.)

I stared into his black beetle eyes. It was like meeting him on the first day of impersonating for Ari, except this time, he didn't have that playful smirk that hasn't been seen since yesterday evening.

"What's gotten into you, Fang?" I whispered. "Where is the Fang that I know?"

"Oh, he's still there, Ari."

I'm starting to wonder…does Fang have a multiple personality disorder that only appears on his birthday? I must consult more Psychology textbooks…

Or I can just bluntly ask him right now, and then probably face a month in the nearby hospital recovering from any bruises or injuries that I might have.

"You need help." I stated angrily. "You're not going to survive like this. Do you honestly want to spend the rest of your life, avoiding yourself and staying home on your birthday? Your fang girls aren't going to be pleased that you continually ditch them so you can have your big baby cry fest. They, along with the rest of your group members, WANT to celebrate with you, not have you cry your tears out." Yeah, I know; harsh, but every person who has had one social conversation with anybody knows that the truth hurts, and you just got to deal with your problems the RIGHT way.

Yes, not like Fang. Don't do what he's doing, kids; he's a bad role model.

"Oh, and you don't think I need help?" He hissed. "I've had seven years of my life, living in a world of embarrassment with a dad so reckless and daft that he won't trust his own flesh and blood, and a stepmom and a stepsister that enjoy wasting money, and having plastic surgeries every weekend like they're going for a mud bath. Did you honestly think I was happy then?" I looked down at the piece of flimsy black and white picture that was still stuck to his grasp like it was glued on by crazy glue. Without thinking about the crazy consequences that I would soon be facing, I did several things.

First, I tugged on the photograph that he let go in surprise, thus freeing me from captivity (His breath stunk terribly; I was extremely happy to get away from his non-brushed, non-rinsed and non-peppermint-smelling mouth).

Second, I pushed him away from me so I wasn't chained by his arms or his amazingly built body that showed in his black t-shirt. God, Maximum, life and death crisis between you and your member, and you're talking about how lean yet muscular he is? Maximum Ride, _**snap OUT OF IT!**_

And thirdly, since stealing somebody else's possession could have you result in heaps and heaps of trouble with that person, well, what else can Maximum Ride, the petty thief, do, but RUN?

Without looking back, I dashed down the stairs, my footsteps against each delicate staircase sounded like thunder and lightning; Dad would never be pleased with me since "running is a dangerous activity that should be avoided, especially when on stairs", so I was so glad he wasn't home and at the mall with the pyro twins.

I threw on my jacket, pulled on a random pair of shoes that somebody left in the parlour and zipped right out the doorway.

* * *

It took a while for my heart to slow down from the erratic pace it was beating. Phew! Safe at last!

…now the only problem would be entering the villa, and spend God-knows-how-many-more-weeks there with Mr. Fang-Er-Doodle who is currently undergoing PMS.

Drat; I hate it when I get into arguments with people. Especially when I'm not prepared and don't have the right equipment, or a stationed place to go to for the night. For example, my mom. When Mom and I got into a fight (Mostly over her boyfriends), I would pack up my things that night and sneak out the window when she went asleep, duffle backpack and all strapped onto my shoulders while I crashed at JJ's.

Yes…with Fang? It was a teensy weensy bit different: I didn't have my stuff with me! And oh right, the fact that I'm impersonating as a male doesn't make the situation any better…

Nor did I know anybody who lived in Los Angeles…maybe the Prez, but I am SO not going to go there; I don't want the tabloids hoarding the house, asking me why I was "passionately stroking your own CEO's cheek", therefore having both Dad and Fang hate me for another reason.

So here I am: Oversized hoodie, gray sweat pants with a navy-blue scruffy-looking jacket in tow (Probably Gazzy's; who leaves leftover pepperoni on the sleeve?) and these awfully weird-looking sailor shoes two sizes too small. God, I should've used at least a millisecond of my escape time to grab the correct pair of shoes so I wouldn't have to have aching feet right now!

Thank God for the unnoticeable hoodie that was attached to the jacket; I pulled it on me (With the sleeves being two inches too long) and adjusted the hood on my head so my face couldn't be seen.

Forget what I just said.

Shit.

**"OH MY GOD! IT'S ARI RIDE!"**

"ARI RIDE? _ARE YOU SERIOUS_?"

"Ari! Ari! Please, could you sign this photograph?"

_Why in the world would you carry my photograph around your bag during the day? _I thought to myself. Then again, with the wonders of Photoshop and make-up, even the ugliest girl in the world can become an average-looking supermodel, and of course, I couldn't help but feel grateful…but…

Ugh, there's only one thing to do when you're in this crisis. Either: A) Sprint the hell out in shoes that are sending a sudden feeling of numbness and are showing protruding, swelling and red flesh or B) Sprint seven blocks and tire the "Ari's" out, thus hiding in bushes until you can hail a cab to take you somewhere where no one will find you.

…

I'll go with Plan B.

Shit, the crowd is growing immensely. From four girls carrying ice-cream cones (That have, unfortunately, dropped to the concrete ground because of me), it grew to this mob of at least twenty passer-by's, including some in their early thirties, give or take a few years.

Double shit! I mean, bird crap! Blood is now seeping through the shoes, and I do NOT have necessary time to take them off.

Wait a minute…

Take them…off? **DING**, _**DOUBLE DING**_, _**TRIPLE DING**_!

"GIRLS!" I shouted loudly as I started to untie the hell on my feet. In a matter of moments, I already had the shoes off. Mental note: Remember to purchase shoes of the same size, same style and same colour for "Person-Whose-Shoes-I-Have-Thrown-Away-To-Rid-My-Pain."

"Who wants a fresh pair of Ari shoes with my bloodstain on it?"

"GIVE ME! GIVE ME! GIVE ME!"

"FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS!"

"No! FOURTY THOUSAND DOLLARS!"

It worked like magic! I threw one shoe to my right (Mind you, at least fifteen feet away from me) and the other one to my left. In a matter of moments, half of the mob went for my most bloodstained shoe.

Awesome. Escape time!

Ready…

Steady…yeowch, I never knew dirt and grit could embed into your skin THAT deeply.

"Ari, could you sign this?"

God damnit, they just never seem to leave you alone, do they?

When I whirled around though, I found myself being mesmerized by the sparkly, twinkly fairy eyes of a little girl, no more than seven-years-old, clutching a dark marker in one hand and a photograph of One Winged Angel in the other.

"Oh, hi there, sweetie," I said, kneeling down on my knees while trying hard to ignore the piercing shrieks of Little Girl's (We call them LG's) that were fighting over my shoes. "Of course, I'll be happy to sign. Although…"

From the looks of it, this girl really was not much older than seven, okay fine, eight. "Are you a fan of ours? I've seen fans of twelve to even nineteen, but never any fans younger ten or so."

She shrugged, her pigtails bouncing along. Aw, man, she's _sooooooo_ freaking adorable! I just want to gobble her up!

"Not really. I'm just getting it for my mom. She's a big fan of One Winged Angel, especially Fang, but since I'm forbidden to go up to the villa to find him and later on get beat up to a pulp by him, I'm just going to find a replacement."

She looks lovable, but she talks like a freaking adult. And GREAT: _Replacement_? It's such a hit on my self-esteem. Hmmm, and I might be hallucinating, but she looks…so familiar. In some ways, her personality reflects a little bit of Fang. I wonder who her mother is…?

Yeah, she's going to get fired for being the "Worst Influential Mother on Young Daughter".

Gosh, I should stop using "she" and "her". Sooner or later, those pronouns will bore me to tears and I will have to begin using "it" to describe this horrendously mature-speaking cutie pie.

"So, sweetie, what's your name?" She gave a small smirk. Oh, God, even the smirk reminds me of Fang! Déjà vu much?

"Nicki, with the 'I', not the 'Y'."

"Well, Nick-"

"ARI, I GOT YOUR SHOE! COULD YOU SIGN IT WITH THIS FELT PEN PLEASE?"

_Shit, shit, shit! _If only I were chewing gum right now…

"Sh, don't be scared, Ari. I know a short-cut." Nicki said deviously. "Do you?" I asked, completely dumbfounded as she reached for my hand.

"Of course." Nicki smiled, gleaming pearly whites and all. "After all, Mommy did always say that I have the qualities of my older brother."

* * *

As it turns out, the short-cut was (With my hand being dragged by this unknown-but-I'm-guessing-seven-year-old pigtailed girl) bursting through the humongous mob, yours truly barefooted, Nicki in her cashmere platforms.

We raced through the streets, dashing wildly while I glanced back once in a while. Every now and then, passer-by's will stare at Nicki and I. To many, I looked like a very starving hobo chasing a little black-haired girl for a candy bar. However, once they hear the phrase "ARI, COME BACK!" emit from the squeaky little voices of the LG's, they would join in with the gang to catch me.

"You're a sprinter. You're not even out of breath yet, and we already ran six blocks." Nicki said as we made a sharp turn at a pizza parlour. It wasn't even a question; it was more like an observation…made by a seven-year-old. What is her IQ level? **150**? _**200**_? I shudder to think of her SAT marks in the future…

"You're pretty clever for a seven-year-old." I remarked, surging in jealousy. Yes, I, Maximum Ride, was envious of a seven-year-old with an Einstein brain.

"Not clever, just observant." She replied, but I watched the side of her cheek lift, as if she were mocking me.

"Are you even sure this is a short-cut?"

Even better question: Why am I following her? Plan B was excellent; Plan C would've never occurred if I didn't become all googly-eyed at her complexion.

Nicki seemed to have read my mind, and she rolled her eyes while saying so. "Cause you trust me?"

Brat.

Clever, devious, sheep-in-wolf's-clothing cutie pie.

"And if you are wondering, yes, we're almost at the hide out."

"I thought you said short cut!" I exclaimed, flabbergast. Gosh, running barefoot on pavement was starting to wear me out.

"Well, you obviously have some hearing problems." She shot back.

Her vocabulary is so broad that I cannot bear to think how many hours of tutoring this little lady go through.

"No, I'm not seven-years-old like you think. I'm eleven years old that hasn't hit puberty yet."

"So what? You're telling me that I got outsmarted by an eleven-year-old?" I scoffed.

"If that's what you'd like to think, then sure."

Taking a quick glance at her, she returned my gaze with a breathtaking grin on her face. There is something uncanny about her. No, she's not supernatural, okay? She's…

…something I can't describe.

"You're out of this world." Maximum Ride, _please watch your mouth_.

"I appreciate your compliment, but if we continue to jog at this pace, you're going to be in so much more trouble than just having fan girls tail you."

* * *

So, eventually, we made it.

I have never, ever done so much exercise in my entire life. Survival of the Strongest Idol award belongs to me! The trophy is mine! **ALL MINE**!

Ahem, excuse me.

So anyways, by the time we stopped, I was out of breath and so was Nicki. With a larger lung capacity, I obviously recovered faster than she did.

"You look winded. You okay?"

She nodded, her hands resting on her knees. "I just need to get a glass of water." It was also at this time that I noticed where we were: We were in an extremely thug-infested run-down neighbourhood in Los Angeles.

We were standing near a playground, but it was deserted, even during noon when most children should be out playing with their parents.

The houses that surrounded us were cheaply hammered together by nails; creaky signs were…well…creaking as the wind started to blow. Even for me, I was starting to get scared.

Right, right, I completely forgot to mention the homeless guy, carrying a McDonald's bag, still piping hot and wolfing the fries down. My stomach started to grumble.

"I'm starting to get creeped out, Nicki. Where, exactly, do you live?"

"I live here." She replied, shrugging and pointing at a cyan blue-painted house as we started to walk down the crosswalk. "It's no big. The neighbourhood is run-down; obviously not high-class enough for you idol singers, but everyone here is friendly with each other. It's the reason why Mommy chose to live here in the first place."

"Yeowch!"

Raising my right foot, I almost fainted to see the sight of a large hunk of glass (Probably from a broken beer bottle) piercing through the skin and the swelling flesh. Augh…I hate life…

"I'm going to get my mom to come out and help you into the house, okay? Stay right here…stay!" She ordered.

"Do you think I have a choice?" I retorted.

"Obviously not." Nicki smiled as she dashed across the street and knocked on the door of the house.

A moment later in this chilly, freezing-my-butt wind, Nicki returned with a woman that looked highly familiar.

Her hair was pure black in a loose bun, her eyes almond-shaped and with slightly sagging bags, but with a fragile emerald green in them, along with olive-coloured skin. She didn't look older than forty, but obviously older than thirty-three. And I'll admit: She looks prettier than Mom.

"I take it that you are Ari?" Her voice sounded extremely alarmed when she saw me, and my uh…bleeding foot, along with my crazily-sized attire.

"Y-yes, I am."

I tried to stumble towards her, single-legged, but really, I wasn't in the fittest shape to be hopping. Instead, I tripped because my stupid eyes didn't see the ledge and I collapsed into her arms.

"It's okay, Ari. We'll get you fixed up. Can you hop if you have a support?" Her voice is so soothing; like a mother's. Why couldn't Mom have a voice like hers?

Nicki's mother wasn't exactly what you would call "slender", but nor was she "fat". She was a little muscular and built, with chicken bone arms that were successfully able to support someone of my weight.

I nodded, too tired to respond anymore. All I wanted was for the piercing pain and the annoying pain-in-the-foot piece of beer bottle glass OUT of my flesh.

The last thing I heard was "Nicki! Open the door for me!"

Then, I collapsed.

* * *

When life gives you a severe cut on your foot, make the most of it and beg someone to drive you to a nearby clinic before you suffer from severe blood loss and need blood donations.

Well, in Maximum Ride's dictionary, when life gives you a severe cut on your foot and you happen to be a really ah-maze-ing looking and sounding idol singer, I'd say ignore the reporter-infested hospital, and hop (Yes, on one foot) sixteen blocks to 1643 SunFair Street.

Remember when I said I collapsed? Yes, I blacked out too. Typical Maximum Ride; I've blacked out a couple times already.

When I awoke, I found myself on a very lumpy sofa with a violent shade of pink vomited on the walls, making me nauseous. But then I realized it wasn't the pink; it was because I sat up too quickly, and my head started to spin.

"Ow…" I groaned while lying against the brown bedframe.

"Oh, you're awake!" Nicki's mother hurried towards me from the rocking chair with a pair of knitting needles in her hand and a humongous ball of yellow yarn. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. I lifted the comforter off of my foot and nearly passed out again at the sight of a piece of white gauze wrapped around the cut. "I'm sorry, but I continue to mentally refer you as 'Nicki's mom'. What is your name?"

"You can call me Victoria; I'm not so keen on the idea of people calling me by my last name." She replied with a smile while adjusting my pillows. "If you don't mind me asking, Ari, why were you running around with no shoes or socks on?"

"I was chased," I explained. "I met your devil of a daughter, whom shall I say, did rescue my life."

"I heard that." Nicki's voice echoed from the kitchen. "I'll be in my room, Mommy!"

The door slammed shut, and there was this sudden awkward silence between Victoria and I. Oh geesh, I hate these moments.

Forcefully, I had to make small talk with her. "Your daughter is so mature for her age; it's a scary sight to see."

"Oh, I know." Victoria laughed while wrapping her hands around her coffee mug. "The only reason for this is because Nicki is very independent. See, I'm a single mom, so she has to start getting used to doing chores around the house. Easy, peasy, lemon squeasy things."

"So…she never had a father?"

Victoria's smile started to falter. "I'm sorry for bringing something this sensitive up." I apologized. "Not to worry!" She said, waving away my apology. "Yes, Nicki was not brought up by her father."

For some strange gut instinct, I felt that Victoria wasn't exactly telling me the "exact truth". "Would you like something to eat? You must be feeling ravished from your terrible ordeal." Victoria walked towards the kitchen, filled a plate of something yummy and delicious (I am sure!) and placed it back on the coffee table.

Ooh…they're…muffins. Bran muffins…with nuts and seeds that can get stuck in your teeth…and dried cranberries and raisins and…just a healthy goodness mound of starch on that plate…

I don't like healthy; simple as that.

Still, can't complain; better than nothing!

"I'm just going to go and wash my hands first. May I please use the bathroom?"

"First door on the left." She muttered while picking the ball of yellow yarn and starting to knit once again. When I made a turn (A limply turn, for that matter), I heard her say, and "I got to get more goodies instead of health food…"

Great; she's making me feel all guilty and everything…I didn't realize where I was going and bumped into a white doorframe. "Yeowch! Bloodied foot and bruised and bumped forehead? What more do I need?"

It was then when I saw (In horror) at the room I was looking at.

Yes, the wallpaper was pink, frilly and yellowing white eyelet lace hid the bedroom from roaming passer-by's. But no, what I wasn't prepared to see was the numerous articles about One Winged Angel, plastered all over the walls.

Every single side of the wall was covered in a violent shade of compressed computer-typed text, bolded red titles and (Get this) posters of Fang, pictures of Fang, candid shots of Fang, articles ABOUT Fang…you name it.

I was getting an eensy-weensy creeped out, but not so creeped when I tripped over a stupid wooden cane (Victoria doesn't NEED a cane; why would she have it in her freaking ROOM?) and stumbled onto the bed where a photo album was sprawled out.

There, in the upright corner, was a picture of me, with a red circle drawn around my face. Great; oh, I know what this is. THIS IS A TRAP!

This is a trap, I KNOW IT! First, after the family realized that there would be a new member joining the group, the family knew I would be vulnerable and easy to capture because of my biography so they could hold me for ransom and get an "X" amount of millions of dollars! Then when they get a hold onto the money, they won't let me go, and in fact, will put me somewhere in a secluded place where no one will find me for another twenty years and I'll become the latest test subjects for scientists to learn about decomposition or for forensic scientists to chip away fragments of bone!

Oh, and before that, this is usually when I turn around and I see the culprit of this doing, clutching some sort of weapon while I discover that she is actually a psycho freak.

What should I do? What should I do! Is she a freaking psychopath, or does she have a Multiple Personality Disorder? Dear God, what should I DO!

…

And _**AH**_! (A delayed reaction; I know.)

"Are you okay? I heard you yelping outside…" Victoria murmured as she clutched a bread knife in one hand and clenched her fist in the other.

"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU FREAK!" I yelled, climbing atop the bed and throwing pillows at her randomly.

"Ari, please…control yourself…things are not what they seem!" She tried to explain to me, but at the same time, I know what she's doing! She's trying to calm me down and talk sense into me, and thus at that moment, she plunges the knife DEEP into my stomach!

So while I try to fend for myself weakly (Because of loss of blood), I throw everything imaginable at her. Pens, pencil holders, an antique lamp, an iPod deck…

"You owe me seventeen new pens, now an antique lamp that my ex-husband bought me and that new iPod deck that I was going to give to my daughter…" Her voice was calm, not angry; TRAITS OF A PSYCHOPATH RIGHT THERE!

Then, I picked up a mahogany photo frame that was resting on the bedside table.

For some strange reason, all of those things (Expensive things, may I add!) that I had thrown at her never made her crease an eyebrow.

This photograph did though.

"Don't you dare throw that!" She roared angrily.

"And why shouldn't I? Give me one good reason why, and I may consider…otherwise, it's shattered pieces of wood for you!"

"Because…because…"

"Stammering won't help! Spit it out, psycho freak! I'm giving you three seconds! 1!"

"I can't…" She was starting to look hopeless.

"2!"

"3 – "

Just as I was about to smash it onto the ground (Yes, I act immaturely, so what? I'm still a teenager; it's a stage I go through while hormones in me churn and churn), something tugged on the photo frame, causing me to release it in surprise.

I stared angrily as Nicki, my "rescuer" (Or shall I call her my "Fisherman"? Hook, line and sinker: That would be me), handed it back to her mother, who was now sobbing tears and collapsing onto her knees.

"Now look what you did!" Nicki yelled.

"You don't understand! You're not an adult! Your mom is a psychopath! She's hanging POSTERS of my group leader on her walls! She has a PICTURE of ME in her photo album!"

"I know my own mom!" She shot back. "How long have you known her for? Huh? Respond to me! You only knew her for an hour, and she treated you well. This is how you repay your thanks?"

Guilt was tugging at my heart while I looked at the sniffling figure of Victoria. "But she's…" I didn't know what to say anymore.

"You haven't noticed, have you?" Nicki said softly while tears were forming in her eyes. "The whole reason that she has Fang's posters up on her walls? His news articles or interviews? You don't know, do you?"

"I – "

"Dingbat…" Nicki growled while wiping away her tears. "Fang is her son."

* * *

Oh, my God.

"Could you repeat that?" I asked weakly while I sank onto the lumpy mattress.

"I said…" Nicki said furiously, eyes narrowing bitterly towards me. "Dingbat."

"No, idiot. Your last sentence!" I rolled my eyes.

"Fang is my mom's son."

I started to stammer; it was just so…all of a sudden. First, I get "kidnapped" by an adorable eleven-year-old girl, and then I meet Fang's mother?

_WHAT IS GOING ON IN THIS WORLD RIGHT NOW?_

Sudden thumping from the hall broke my train of thought. "I heard a ruckus outside the house! Is everything all right?"

I could only widen my eyes in surprise. "Now who are **YOU**? Don't tell me," I added satirically. "You're Fang's stepfather."

"Well, someone sure is observant today." He rolled his eyes. I felt like I was staring at an older, taller reincarnation of Fang. His hair sleek and black, rid of any type of hair styling products, eyes a beautiful…um…okay, a very dull coal black (Like beetles; tee hee!), lean but muscular in a grey tuxedo with a navy blue tie.

Yes, and his attitude; like father, like son. I mean, what grown man still rolls his eyes? Robert doesn't, neither does Dad!

"You did not answer my question." I responded to his lack of an answer.

"Please, can everyone just calm down?" Victoria cracked from her voice, tears staining her jeans. Fang's "maybe father" held a tight grip on Victoria's arm and hauled her up, her other hand clutching the photo frame close to her chest.

"Are you all right?" He asked tenderly, stroking Victoria's hair.

"PDA much?" I muttered disgustingly under my breath.

"I suppose your mother and father never really taught you manners, did they?" He shot back coolly, nostrils flaring.

"Don't change the subject." I said. "Who are you?"

"Edward Robertson; not very delighted to meet you, but as a business man, it is of common social manner that I shake hands with you, no matter how annoyed I currently am with you." He held out his hand, and then took it back once I refused.

"I don't believe you." I stated finally. "If you really are Fang's father, why aren't you celebrating his birthday with him? Why didn't you send him a birthday card? Why is Victoria acting like a total psychopath and taping photographs of One Winged Angel, and particularly Fang, on her walls? And why, if you and Victoria both are his parents, are you two not celebrating his birthday at the villa?"

Edward shook his head. "You ask too many questions, Ari Ride. I feel like I'm being questioned by the police, maybe even worse."

"No, Edward," Victoria said, sniffling slightly. "He's right. The truth must be told."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. You want me to believe that both you and Victoria are Fang's parents? Fine. Prove it."

"I have plenty of evidence." Edward said. "Firstly, my complexion. Secondly, my attitude. Thirdly," He reached briskly into the pocket of his dress pants and withdrew a leather wallet. Gucci? Alligator? Salvatone Ferragamo? COACH? I can't tell.

Then, he reached in with fumbling fingers, and was about to flick it out towards me, but instead, he eyed my jacket pocket. Or maybe…the yellowing corner of Fang's family photograph.

"You already have extraordinary evidence, Ari Ride. Look at your pocket." I reached into and drew out the photo, staring intently at it for the very first time. In the middle were a young man and woman, smiling brightly as they reached for a little boy's hand, who looked completely dumbfounded, and started to wave.

"You got this from Fang, didn't you?"

"Maybe." I narrowed my eyes slightly. "What are you playing at?"

"That woman in the photo is Victoria, and that man, obviously, is me. If you still need the proof, take this." He withdrew a brightly-coloured hand-made photo frame that looked like it was glued on by a five-year-old.

Edward tossed it towards me.

"Just look at the back."

I flipped the photo frame, and stared at the scribbly hand-writing that I could still distinguish as his, even if it looked completely different because of the age difference of five-years-old to twenty.

_Deer Daddy:_

_Happy birfday! I hope you have a good day!_

_Love,_

_Nick_

_March 28th, 1995_

It was Fang. No doubt about that.

"I suppose you will need more evidence? I presume a blood test will do? Or maybe even a DNA test?"

I blushed to the roots of my hair; dang it, I hate how I turn bright red like a tomato when under pressure and under the eyes of so many. I count: Six.

"Fine, fine." I muttered. "But I'm going to need some explanations before I return home to a crying Fang."

Somehow, when I said "crying", maybe it's just me, but I watched as Victoria's face became drained completely of blood, while Edward stiffened.

"Why would Fang be crying?" Edward asked, his voice growing hoarse.

"I have no idea." I admitted. "I looked through his birthday cards – "

"Typical." Victoria muttered darkly. "Fang hates it when somebody touches his belongings."

"I got that the first time, Victoria, thank-you very much." I retorted. "I went up to the second floor to see him holding onto this…" I held up the photograph that I had stolen from Fang. "And the next thing I know, he was crying. Really hard, if I can add."

Victoria and Edward exchanged a look. I recognized that look. I call it "the look", when parents realize they did something to hurt their child and now has a feeling of guilt and remorse growing in their bellies. Yep, I recognize this look: Just like how Mom and Dad looked at each other a few moments before telling Ari and I that they were going to go through a divorce.

"Do you think - ?" Victoria began.

"You were obviously too harsh." Edward jumped to conclusions, leading to be very astonished and angry looking Victoria.

"I was not! I only did what I had to do because – "

"HELLO! STILL IN THE ROOM?" I shouted at the two that were in a very heated feud. "My foot still aches, I'm starving, and I'm kind of freezing?"

"Shall we talk over tea then?" Victoria said.

"Nice try, Victoria." I said. "But I'm not interested in tea. I lost some blood, so I require something savoury like manicotti to satisfy my craving 'cause I don't stand for that natural crap of flax seeds and dried cranberries. And please stop brandishing your weapon in the house!"

I only took notice of the butter knife that was still clutched tightly in her fist. It was also then when I realized that her "weapon" was a very dull butter knife, and couldn't penetrate my skin unless she sawed very hard.

Oh my Gosh. How embarrassing.

"Have you played Neverwinter Nights? You talk like those peasants in Port Llast." Edward commented.

**"I see how Fang got your personality and your attitude as well." I observed, suddenly hating myself for playing Neverwinter Nights for several nights in a row. Drat. Mental Note: Never do that ever again. Period.**

"And obviously Victoria's kindness." Edward said.

"You're kidding, right?" I exclaimed, exasperated. "Victoria I can believe, but Fang? Um, not so much…"

Victoria suddenly turned around and smiled weakly at me. My heart suddenly stopped beating for a second. It's the same breathtaking smile that Fang (sometimes!) gives off.

"He can have quite a temper, if you've noticed. Usually, he's the mellow one and won't freak out over small incidents..."

That girl from the Prez's private club was right: Nice-looking parents DO make good-looking babies, and this family (With all of their problems and all) was definitely no exception.

Dear Girl from Club:

You haven't seen nothing yet!

…

But right now, all I want is manicotti.

Let the explanations (And the cheesy goodness!) begin.

* * *

**LALALALALALALALALA! Chapter 10 done! So anyways, what do you think Max (And the rest of Fang's family) will do now? What do you think! Heehee!  
Anyways, I really, REALLY, TRULY want to thank-you guys for the 100 reviews! Let's try to aim higher and reach 200 guys! C: **

**So, I will warn you that the next time I update may be two to three weeks later. I have a preeeeettty crazy life that I don't want right now, along with schoolwork, tests, finals and midterms, and obviously crazy teachers that make you work your butts off!**

**In the meantime though, take care of yourselves! Don't catch a cold now! C: Oh, and before I forget...**

**SHOUT-OUTS! (For Chapter 8 and 9!)**

**alsin  
Call Me Bitter  
KC  
SallSall  
Fang's-Crazy-Twin-Sister  
iDream Out Loud  
KeepTappin92  
Ally  
Moon Agent  
netsrik10  
Love don't cost a thing  
Liked  
Lives2fly  
Blank  
Faxbeliever02  
jahfreenalam  
porcupine451**

**and...**

**a quick shout-out to nathan-p! Thank-you so, SO much for all of your feedback for my chapters! It was amazing reading what you wrote, and it inspires me to be an even better writer, so thank-you!**

**And of course, READ AND REVIEW PLEASE! C: **

**Bye for now!**

**Luff,**

**Sam C:**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys! It's Sam C: here! I'm so, so, so sorry for updating so late! School has been going crazy for the past few weeks, giving me barely any time to work on this story! But after all, today IS the first day of my Winter Break holdiay, and I'm celebrating with a brand new...chapter! I hope it'll be enough for you; sixteen pages! Definitely not another record broken, buuuut...hopefully you'll all enjoy it!**

**Anyway, I hope you guys are enjoying your Winter Break too! It's getting super, super chilly now, so make sure to bundle up and stay warm! C: Only five more days until CHRISTMAS! You guys excited? I might celebrate Christmas with...another chapter? Or a one-shot? C: Maybe? XDD Haha.**

**Max - It's SNOOOWING!  
Sam C: - Not yet.  
Angel - Why?  
Sam C: - Global warming? Hello guys? Aren't you the Flock that is supposedly responsible for finding a way to cure the world?  
Fang - Maybe. Maybe not. I mean, I have my Blog but...  
Iggy - His blog doesn't help much. He gets so many e-mails from his fans, asking him to date them.  
Sam C: - That's not gooood! Max?  
Max - :C -tears-  
Sam C: - Oh, Max, don't cry! Look what you did Iggy!  
Iggy - Oh, so it's MY FAULT?  
Gazzy - Guys, guys, put your wings...I mean...claws...okay, NAILS away!  
Nudge - So, like, JP owns this story and all of the characters in it!  
Sam C: - Sigh, sigh.  
Total - On with the story!**

**

* * *

**

I never, ever isolate food away from my life unless there are several circumstances that get in the way. I'm just like a younger version of Nigella Lawson. I mean, come on man, I'm a girl! Okay, wrongly put: I'm a girl impersonating guy! I need to take in my supplements! And yes, basically, I love food!

But really, those circumstances had matched (An amazing story to tell, some passionate yet totally disgusting PDA sessions and some gorgeous family photographs), thus leaving me open-mouthed and drooling, while the plate of tomato sauce-drenched manicotti became cold.

"So, basically," I said, whipping out my spoon and finally digging it into the manicotti. "You and Edward divorced because of a silly rumour, but that rumour turned out to be false!"

"Yes, that's…what he just said…" Victoria began uncertainly. Yes, I was pretty sure she was debating whether I was capable of comprehending the English language. Shall she enunciate? Or shall she grab me a second-hand dictionary from the bookshelf?

"So after eleven years of divorce and he had found another woman to replace you, along with a bratty, spoiled stepdaughter of a model, you realized that your gossiper lied to you, and really, you still loved Victoria?"

"Yes, uh…that's what she said…" Edward said in a monotone voice, his hand cupped under his chin. He sounded like that iPod app: That's what she said. You know that mechanical, robot-like voice? Yep, that's Edward all right. "Will you please stop repeating what Victoria and I say? It's becoming quite a nuisance."

"Fine, fine," I said, waving his complaint away. "So what happened then?"

"Well, obviously," Edward began, sitting up straighter and I heard the satisfying crick-crack of someone's back being cracked. "Is your back alright?" Victoria asked with genuine concern. For a girl like me who has been in a failed "relationship" in high school, my stomach started to churn.

No, I won't hurl. I've seen unnecessary concern, "classy" PDA and even some make out sessions during lunch back in Washington with JJ and her boyfriend. As much as I wanted to vomit, I didn't seem to have any reflex peristalsis waves strong enough to make me hurl and embarrass myself in the school cafeteria. A little Biology lesson for you there!

"I'm fine, thank-you." Edward said gruffly, and then began his story as if nothing happened. "I went to find Victoria that night. In fact, I was completely wrong about her the entire time, and had accused her. So we…" He glanced at Victoria with a lovingly gaze; yep, I've seen that too.

"You guys made up, and then had that thing that children under the age of thirteen should not hear, I can tell already, thus leading to a now eleven-year-old clever and sneaky daughter." I finished dramatically, waving my spork around and (Finally!) pointing at their bored-looking eleven-year-old.

Yeah, I should get one. It's so convenient; eat soup, then eat ravioli! Drink broth, and then eat pasta!

"Victoria gave birth to Nicki ten months later." He continued. "But I couldn't divorce my current wife either, so secretly, I continued to send them money monthly so Victoria would have enough to pay off the bills, as well as take care of Nicki. I also made up excuses so I could visit my newborn."

"So you used up all of your energy and time on your second born, and not Fang?" I demanded, sudden anger rising from the pits of my stomach.

"Well, I – "

"No wonder he's so upset!" I cried, slamming my utensil down. "I mean, I can understand WHY. Nicki's your first daughter, your second born and may I add, a total genius that you should be proud to have! But hey, Fang is your first born SON, and he needs some love too! May I add that, from your observations, he never had a proper family because of the divorce, and then his mother treating him so harshly that he literally hates her, and then having to be put down by his stepmother and stepsister for the past eight years?"

"Ari," Victoria's tone was firm, but still kind. I can see that she would have been named "The Favourite Parent" out of her two children. "Please calm down and eat your food."

I sat, and started to eat, but everything that I chewed and swallowed ended up as a lump in my throat. I was too choked up; I couldn't understand why.

"I never meant to treat him with such hostility. I only wanted what was best for him." Victoria began, putting her fingers together. "What was the point of fighting for him if I know he could have a proper education, a better bed, better toys and a better – "

"That's all what the adults think, don't they?" I cut in bitterly. "I know I'm being very selfish, and I apologize for my behaviour from before for claiming that you were a psycho freak. But literally, it's true. All the adults think are what's best for their sons and daughters. That may be, but have you ever listened to what the child wants? What they want?"

"I know I'm not supposed to say this, as I haven't been a parent yet. But I…" I placed a palm on my heart. "I have been through a rough divorce myself."

Edward looked shocked as Victoria choked on her own spit. "Excuse me? _You?_" He asked incredulously. "You look too young to be married though…"

"Not **ME**!" I said, exasperated. "Of course I'm too young! I meant my mother and my father! When I was ten, they both split up, leaving my twin b – sister and I. The judge pronounced me to my dad, and my sister to my mom."

"I may have been ten, but I was mature enough to make my own decisions, especially deciding who was the most responsible." Ye gods, my eyes are starting to become all watery. "My mother, as wealthy as she is, is not as powerful as she actually is. She may dress in all her sparkling glory with diamond rings and crap, but she failed to look at my sister even once."

I bit my bottom lip. Why was I even telling three strangers MY past life? It was true though. After the divorce, my rabbit of a mom decided to care about herself only. Apart from the speech about boys and dating, and as well as accompanying me to and fro Los Angeles during my youth, we never, ever had a proper conversation in the house.

Thus leading to constant arguments with Mom, and I having to disappear from the house for a while and crash at JJ's.

"She and my mom never had a single conversation in the house. Because of lack of communication and a lack of trying to trust each other after the terrible ordeal, she couldn't wait for the summers to come."

Yeah, now you see why in the **"Beginning"** I said Judge Judy's final verdict for me to spend my summers with Dad and Ari was absolute justice for me.

"Their relationship started to improve though, so now they're constantly chatting and having fewer arguments than before. As much as I would like to continue on with my sister's dratted childhood, I won't and I'll stop here. Either way, I just don't agree with your decisions. Fang has had a rough past, and for the past eight years, he had to ignore those penetrating words from his own stepmom and sister and work hard while he strived to be a singer."

I finally closed my mouth and went on to eat my manicotti. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Victoria placed a finger at her temple and started to rub it. "Am I…?" She murmured quietly.

"Are you…?" I began uncertainly.

"Am I…wrong then? Was I wrong?"

Looking at poor Victoria now, my heart started to clench painfully. Ugh, I hate it when it does that, especially during emotional Japanese animal movies when they have to die in the end. "It's not entirely your fault, Victoria." I said sympathetically. "It's Edward's too."

"As much as I don't want to agree, I have to agree with you." He said quietly. "But there is no way I can make it up to my son now…"

"There's still hope!" I cried, my eyes lighting up brightly. Yes, in fact, it was the most brilliant plan I had up to date so far!

"You want to fix things up with Fang? Easy. Go find him now, and explain yourself to him!"

"I…" Edward's eyes widened in shock, and it was only now when I had seen the fragile, weak and shocked Fang in front of me. "I don't know if…"

"You're the father, you're the mother! You have to take responsibility for your actions! You want to fix things with your son, but you don't take the initiative to do it, so I'm here as a positive force to aid." I said angrily, pointing a guilty finger at both Edward and Victoria.

"I suppose…" Victoria glanced at Edward for a final check-up.

"Victoria," I said, rolling my eyes. "You don't need Edward here to check-up on every single thing. You guys have exchanged this look for the past hour! Make your own decisions please!"

"I suppose…if we see him…that would be fine by me and Nicki. And Edward too, but would he let us in the house…that is the main problem…"

I smiled cheekily. Ah, when life gives you a pair of keys, take them and use them wisely; that's what I always say. "Who says he's opening the door?"

* * *

"You know what; maybe this isn't such a great idea after all. Let's head back…" Victoria said pleadingly, her right arm in tow with Nicki while she used to other to tug on my jacket.

"There's no use turning back now, Victoria." I said roughly. "I know you're nervous, and you should be! After all, you haven't seen Fang for the past nine years of your life."

My eyes started to soften. "But everything is going to be okay; you know that. As long as you explain yourselves to him, everything will be okay. I'm sure he's not as mad as he probably was a couple years ago. Otherwise, why would he be crying over his family photo?"

"I suppose so…" Edward chewed on his bottom lip while wrapping a comforting arm around Victoria's slender shoulder.

"Then come on!"

"Why did we have to enter through the back doors? Isn't there a front door where we can just walk right up the stairs instead of tramping through all this grass and through booby traps that can be triggered by invisible string?" Nicki complained while rubbing her stumpy calves.

"You, young lady, need to shut your mouth." I said calmly while I poked the key into the lock and twisted it quietly. "I could actually send you to the front door. With your size, no hounds of paparazzi will be interested in taking an eleven-year-olds' picture."

"You take that back this instant!" She growled furiously, pointing at guilty finger at me through the reflection of the glass door. I rolled my eyes, evidently hoping that she would see it.

"Humour me, please," I said dryly while opening the door. Once the door opened by a peep, I whirled around and found myself staring into the fearful eyes of Victoria and Edward. Talk about frightening; their almond-shaped eyes are large and big: The perfect eye size and shape. I'm envious because I still have slits when I smile. What do we call those…eye smiles?

I got it from Dad; how sad.

"Now, don't come in until I signal you to." I ordered while I slid into the silent kitchen.

"What are you going to use to signal?" Edward asked nervously, wiping his sweaty palms on his tuxedo.

"Obviously…_NOT_ fireworks." I mumbled sarcastically. "Just a quick flip of the hand is all we need."

Taking in a deep breath, I took off my shoes and tiptoed inside. Yes, dear God, even walking in the villa was frighteningly...terrifying to me. It was as if every move I make, I'm being watched by Fang and his beetle eyes.

Shit!

I tripped over a stupid chair. Why do I have to trip over a stupid chair NOW? Why must I be so clumsy?

The stupid wooden chair has toppled onto its side, lying limply. I have a great desire to give it a good kick. I kicked it, and now it's rolling nosily against the tiled floor. Right, and my foot hurts because I used my wounded foot to kick it.

Sudden thumping from upstairs does not signify a good thing.

And here I am now, wide-eyed and terrified, wondering where I should hide.

Crap, he walks fast.

"_**WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?**_" His beetles are furious. _He's_ furious. Fang Robertson – his newly found surname – is staring angrily at me while putting his hands on his hips.

Should I call for back-up right now?

Yes…

…

_**Yes.**_

"I, um, I…uh…I…" I stammered while I limped towards the screen door. "I have several people to introduce to you." Fang snorted; typical reaction. "Yeah, who?"

Quickly, I slid screen door open and twisted the door knob on the glass door. Seriously, there was no point in using the flipping hand signal anyway. "I suppose no introductions are needed?"

"Why are you showing me strangers?" Fang asked rudely, coming up towards me.

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

As I come up from the abysmally foolish and stupid Ari Ride furiously, I glance at the three people who just entered the kitchen. Firstly, the lady in her purple glory, with a cute little girl in tow in the same matching outfit.

Then, there was…him, in his tuxedo, no doubt about that.

"It's you?" I asked. My voice was slightly hysterical, and at the same time, rather shocked and (Not to mention) angry. Well…fifty percent hysterical, thirty five percent shocked and the remainder for angry (It was Ari who made me angry anyway…running off like that, with my Gucci shoes too!)

"Happy birthday, son," My dad can only show so much emotion. I'm just like him, you see.

I bent my head over to Ari's ear, and whispered, "Now who are the other two strangers?"

Ari glanced at me, facial expression looking rather incredulous. "Are you for real, man?"

"It's…" The lady tucks a piece of hair behind her ear while she slowly walks up towards me, dragging the little girl with her. She chuckles nervously while I back up towards the counter in the kitchen. "It's…been a long time, hasn't it, Nick? You haven't -"

"How do you know my name?" I interrupted, holding my palms up. "And…" My eyes started to squint. "Who, in this world, are you?"

Surprisingly enough, the lady looked staggered at my reply, with a slight pinch of hurt creeping into her eyes. "You don't know who I am?" Beside me, Ari sighed exasperatedly while face-palming himself. "Dude, you need help."

"I don't need – "But then, it was also at that moment, I had one of those epiphanies. When every single piece of the puzzle suddenly fits together, and without using any thinking, you can already tell where they fit and what the result will be.

I can assure you that my response is less likely to be welcoming.

"She's my mom, isn't she?"

* * *

A wise man once told me "It's only awkward if you make it awkward." At the moment, however, it was the situation that made everything much more alien to me, my parents, and my new sister and of course, my idiotic fool of a band mate.

"I suppose uh…I should slip out the door? I'll be upstairs in Jeb's room uh…arranging his uh…socks by colour. See ya!" Ari quickly scampers out of the room, bolts right upstairs and slams the door behind him. Woo, he's a fast little kid.

The clock begins to tick second by second. Honestly, I didn't know how to respond right now. Ask them to sit? Demand explanations like a five-year-old? Or –?

"Fang, it's been such a long time. You have grown up since the last time I saw you." My mother tries to walk towards me, but she's just so foreign to me right now that it seems weird to have her…hug me. I mean, she abandoned me when I was eleven, and you expect me to **HUG** her?

"Of course he has! He's our son!" My father replies boisterously (Maybe trying to make things LESS awkward? But it's not working for crap.)

"Hold it." I said sharply. "What's going on here? First of all, I need answers. Why are you guys here, and what do you want?"

"I just want to – " My mother tries to reply, but I just cut her off. The anger is pouring out from my heart right now, and I can't stop there. I just can't. It's been buried in my heart for far too long.

"Oh, to hurt me more?" I spat bitterly. "Ever since you abandoned me when I was eleven to live with money-sucking leeches and my idiotic example of a father, I have been suffering. I suffered from humiliation from my stepmom and my stepsister, and I often ran away from home."

I narrowed my eyes at my father, who had his hands in the pockets of his suit. His face was set like stone, giving off no reaction whatsoever. "And you…I told you what happened! I told you what was going on in the family! I tried to communicate with you, but what were you doing? Spending your time on the phone, concentrating your eyes on your stocks and on the computer screen? I thought families were loving, caring…" My voice was starting to become wheedling and pleading, but I just couldn't stop pouring my emotions into reality.

"But I guess they weren't. Both of you took part in ruining my childhood. I just…" My sudden outburst made my weak and fatigued. I sank myself into a wooden chair, clutching my head in my hands. "I just can't believe you would come back to ruin my life once more."

Sudden footsteps sounded, and I looked up to see my sister, Nikki (As Ari called her) walking towards me. She smiled a toothy grin at me as she placed a hand in mine. "Fang!" For some reason, she didn't seem so foreign to me at all. She was made to be loved, with looks so adorable and outrageously cute. "You're my older brother. I'm so glad to have one."

Her words made my lips perk up. "Really? I'm so glad to have a new sister. I'm…" I glanced back at my parents, who were looking at me with worried stares, and back at Nikki. "Not too keen on the idea of seeing them again. How old are you, Nikki?"

"Actually, I'm already eleven." She confessed bashfully. My eyes went dead. She was eleven. Nikki had the care of my parents ever since she was born. What about me?

"So…you two got back together when I was eleven?" My voice even sounded dead to me. "So, during this entire time, you two reconciled while I was left out in the dust to take care of my baby sister?"

I looked up, and shot a look of pure venom and hatred at my parents. "I did not do this on purpose, Fang. You need to understand that. Right after I heard that it was your Aunt's hurtful gossiping, I immediately went to find your mother, and yes…we reconciled that night."

"But understand that I did ask your mother to come back to me. I wanted her to return to me, and I would have filed for divorce the next day with your stepmother." He explained while patting my mother's hand comfortingly. "But she knew that you would have never forgiven her yet. We…" Our gazes met, and yes, even I, saw a tiny hint of hope in his stare. "Just wanted the best for you."

I snorted. Of course; all parents say that, don't they? "I'm sick of your bullshit talk. You wanted the best for me? If you wanted the best for me, Edward, then you wouldn't have left me alone all the time and tried to communicate with me. If you wanted the best for me, then you would have listened to me when I was complaining about how I was being verbally assaulted by your god damn wife! And…"

I stood up, leaving Nikki on the wooden stool, and walked towards my father, the man I had once written an essay on for he was my role model.

"If you still want the best for me, do not ever come and visit me ever again. You know, I have forgiven the both of you for a few years now, but seeing your faces again makes me sick. To. My. Stomach."

_**SLAP!**_

The force came as a surprise, knocking me to the ground. I looked up in shock as the woman, clad in purple, kept her arm raised up. Her eyes were burning with fury, anger and pain. "Go ahead and slap me again, if you're courageous enough to!" I roared thunderously as I got to my feet.

"Yes, I am, Nicholas. In fact, I would slap you again! I cannot believe you would use this type of attitude to talk to your father and me. Quit trying to block my way, Edward!" My father flung himself across her, but she pushed him away fiercely.

"You do not understand how much pain and suffering the both of us had gone through right after the divorce, so you weren't the only one who was crying every single night. Quit your complaining and whining, because you aren't eleven years old anymore. You're god forsaken twenty-years-old, and I know for one that you're mature enough to understand the complete situation and not jump to conclusions."

Yes, my mother. It was my mother who had slapped me, shouted at me and is now consoling me. It was also right here, right now that I realized why I had missed my mother for all those years after my fuming had come to an end: Because she was an analytical, thinking, emotionally-connecting and kind and caring person. No, not a person: A mother. She was the symbolism of perfect motherhood, in my eyes.

"Now…" She placed a warm and tender hand on mine. It was still smooth; just like the day when she was going to buy my first ice-cream cone when I was five. "Will you please give this a chance, and let us explain the entire story to you?" I looked into her deep eyes solemnly, and knew for a moment, that this would be one of my best birthdays yet, with or without a three tier cake.

"Yes, I will."

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

Seriously, would I (Truthfully) go up to Dad's room just to organize his socks by colour? My God, that was the stupidest and most outrageous excuse I have ever come up with in my History of Excuses Book.

And anyway, I'm still worried about Fang and them. I have heard some shouting and bellowing from downstairs, and the loud BUMP of someone (Or some **THING**) crashing onto the ground. I glance at my replaced alarm clock (Thank-you, wonderful Dad!). It's been at least an hour and a half that I have been cramped up in my room.

I am in no mood whatsoever to talk to Ari on Skype (He's probably executing ANOTHER episode of "One Month in Francesca"), and I'm not even going to bother catching up on my mother's e-mails about her dream wedding.

I press my ear closely to the front door, and for some strange reason, I hear a faint buzzing noise along with a gruff male voice speaking, "Well, you've done it this time." Oh, SHIT, what did Fang do NOW? I mean, who else could've caused trouble? Let's see…

Victoria's way too neat with her motherly instincts, Victoria taught her daughter WELL and Edward is a high-class member of society so…yeah…

It leaves Fang, simply put.

Quickly, I open the door and dash downstairs, nearly tripping on the last step.

And this is where I also crash into the front door leading to the garden and the driveway outside, giving me a large bruise on my shoulder. _**Suh-weet**_.

"Fang, don't cause any trouble!" I yelled at the door while rubbing my shoulder. Yup, and this is where I also see Fang and Edward (See, when a father and son stand right next to each other, my eyes play tricks on me and I start seeing doubles; I'm seeing ghosts in my villa!) standing by the door, staring at me as if I were some crazy psychopath.

"Hi…every…one…"

"What, in the world, are you doing?" Fang mumbled, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Uh, uh…" I started. "I'm getting…a good seat to watch Arthur's Perfect Christmas…in…August?"

"In August? Sweetie, Christmas specials are only on during Christmas, not during the end of summer." A voice called from the kitchen. A walking, talking eggplant emerged from the kitchen and into the parlour, and then I noticed it was only Victoria, with a sleeping Nikki resting peacefully in her arms. She snorted while, with the aid of Edward, managed to get into her shoes.

"Mission Control reporting for duty every Sunday?" Victoria said cheerfully to her son. Fang's mouth uplifts into a fully-fledged smile. It's been…how long…actually, I've never seen him smile at ALL before. The closest would be his oh-so-sexy smirks, but…another time…

"Astronaut Fang reporting for updates, Mission Control."

"And Mission Control's partner will also check in every Saturday. Agreed?" Edward gives Fang a salute, in which he returns happily. "Of course."

Suddenly, Victoria grabs a hold of my sweater and drags me to the corner. "Thank-you so, so much for all you have done for us. We could not be more grateful. I'll admit, the first time I saw you, your first impression was far from impressive, but I cannot be more appreciative for all that you have done to help us see our son again."

I could only smile cheekily. "I'm just doing what a good band member should do for his leader."

Victoria glances at me and sighs half-heartedly. "Now if only you weren't a boy…"

**H-UH?** I shoot Victoria a frightened stare while she could only shoot an apologetic look through her eyes. I understood; Nikki weighed much more than she looked.

But STILL! It…she…what did she mean, exactly? What did she mean by "If only you weren't a boy"? Hmm, has she seen right through me? I don't think that's it…still…it's uncanny…

"We'll come back sometime next week, Fang! In the meantime, I'm going to get Nikki home. See you later!" Victoria called while I open the front door for her.

"See ya, Mom…Dad." Fang gives a wave as the footsteps finally die away, and I slam the door behind me. Thus begins the awk-ward silence: Emphasis on the "**Awk**".

"You call your Mom Mission Control?" I squeaked while I tried to inch past him. I try so hard to change the subject, but oh, dear, it's not working. Damn, he's quick.

Quickly, he held out his arm so he blocked the doorway, which meant I could not exit to safety haven in Dad's room, which **ALSO** meant I was put into ultimate control of him like silly putty.

"Who told you to steal with photograph…" He began menacingly. "Who told you…to interfere into my personal life?" I sighed in defeat. "No one? But c'mon, Fang, we all know that you've been dying to see your parents ever since the divorce. And now you did! So, shouldn't you be grateful?"

Fang smirked, all signs of true happiness fading away and the dark, sexy Fang returned again, with his poker face and all. "Of course, I am, but firstly…" He cracked his knuckles. Shiet. "I'm going to make you see stars."

I gulped. I mean, okay, I shouldn't technically be afraid of him since I did manage to tackle a senior during a football game, and with my athletic ability, I was able to sock him. Now, what was that move again? The thrust up the nose?

"1, 2…" I closed my eyes shut before the pain could completely embrace me (And my body). But what came wasn't a punch at all. It wasn't…even…close?

Instead, he wrapped his arms around me in a friendly hug while the blood started to rush from the various parts of my body to my cheeks. "Thank-you, truly…"

What. The. Hell. What's with all the…the…racing heartbeat? The…the…flushing cheeks? The feverish symptoms? _**WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?**_

Of course, knowing Fang, it only lasted a second. "But if you ever tell anybody about this, I swear, I will seriously make you see stars. You understand me?" I nodded quickly, while the blood still remained in my cheeks. "Good. I'll see you later then. Thanks for the birthday treat." He smirked, and then exited up to his room.

Oh, God. This cannot be happening. I am a TOMBOY, who **SWORE** she would _**NOT**_ find love until the day she fell on her death bed! Am I…am I liking Fang? Like not the "Fan-Girl and Idol" relationship, but on a more personal level?

**Why? **

Oh, and did I mention that I'm a guy liking another "guy"? Why, oh, why did it HAVE to be me?

Just…_**WHY?**_

_**

* * *

**_

I was reading some of dating articles on Gazzy's hand-me-down computer when I heard a loud smash of the front door, signifying that Dad, Gazzy and Iggy had arrived home.

I bounded downstairs to greet them, only to find myself in shock at the pie-filling covered Iggy, soaking-in-soda Gazzy and a fuming Dad with a slice of cheese pizza remaining on his head as a lovely hat.

"Oh, my goodness! What happened to you guys?" I cried while quickly rushing to the cabinet to retrieve some towels for them to dry off and scrape the remaining food away from their body.

Gazzy snorted sarcastically. "Ask him." He said bitterly, nodding towards Iggy. "He knows what happened."

"Hey, am I not allowed to fight back if one of our fans have an overprotective boyfriend, and was literally yelling about how I was groping her or something? Dude, she wanted to hug ME. I can't even freaking SEE what she WANTED with me!" In frustration, Iggy throws his towel back at me.

"Whoa, watch it, lemony zest! I just got my sweater cleaned!" My attempt to cheer him up has failed. Instead, he kicks off his shoes and stomps upstairs. "Don't feed me dinner!" He yelled from the fifth step up.

"Why not?" I asked while folding the towel, half-knowing that his reason would be partly is because of me.

"I'm punishing myself for having to deal with the rudest band mates of all time, having to be blind since I was little and having to be accused for groping someone when I can't even see the good places to grope!" With that, he slams the door while Fang opens his and comes downstairs, giving a long, low whistle. "What happened to the little guy?"

Dad sighed while handing me the towel. Pft. And I don't even receive thanks for it! "He's getting a little bit out of hand during promotional activities. Today, a fan wanted a hug from Iggy, and the fan's boyfriend accused Iggy of groping her in the inappropriate places."

"Then, they got into this HUGE fight in the central of the stage, nearly breaking the mikes! We're considered lucky if we have three mikes left!" Gazzy cried dramatically. "Ooh, time to catch the latest Arthur episode!" Once again, he flings the towel at me like I'm their maid.

"He'll come around. He's done this before; getting frustrated with his blindness." Fang began, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "But it doesn't put a stop to his dream of becoming a great musician. From the day of his audition, he's come a long way. He just needs a little push to tell him that his disability shouldn't keep him from continuing his dream."

Dad and I stared at him. "Since when did you ever have the soul of becoming nice to people? I thought you usually kept a mediocre face, and always refused to take part in other people's lives!" Dad exclaimed.

Fang started to blush; we stared at him for another ten seconds more. "Well, there are ahem – circumstances in life and experiences that will help change and mature a person! I'm…off to get a snack!" And with that, he left for the kitchen. I started to giggle.

"What happened when we weren't at home?" Dad asked suspiciously. "Calm down, Charlie Brown." I replied airily. "I'll tell you another time."

* * *

Things got worse.

After dinner that night (Iggy reluctantly joined us for dinner after being dragged on the floor and suffering from minor carpet burns by Gazzy), Fang decided it would be the best time to rehearse a new song that he wrote a couple days earlier.

The song, itself, isn't bad. I mean, Fang isn't a professional composer, but he does have potential to be. "It's a…ballad?" I asked uncertainly. "And there are no featured instruments, other than acoustic guitar."

Gazzy started to jump up and down, all dignity lost as he pounded his fist into the air. "YES! My skills are finally put to the test!" Only Iggy looked crestfallen as he clutched the lyrics in his hand. "Iggy, are you okay?" I asked, walking towards him and putting a hand on his arm.

Iggy shot me a smile, but as a brilliant reader of people, it was a false smile. He was only putting on a show. "I'm fine. Now, do I get any solo parts in the song or am I just going to sit there like a piece of stumpy wood?"

I sighed, giving Fang an exasperated "Look-What-You-Did" look. I stood up and walked towards Fang. "Go talk to him!"

"Why do I have to talk to him? Can you not see he's more comfortable around you?"

"You're the freaking leader of One Winged Angel, okay? And how in the world is he becoming more comfort –"

"Just shut up." Iggy's voice interrupted our little spat. Everyone turned to look at him, eyes widening in surprise. "I mean it, just shut up." Instead, he picked up the piece of paper and ripped it in half.

Fang's face was completely drained of colour. "Iggy? What's the matter?"

Iggy snorted. "What do you think is wrong, Fang? I understand that my blindness restricts me from doing certain things in an idol group. It restricts me from interacting with my fans in the correct way without their boyfriends' accusing ME of being a rapist, and it restricts me from getting any solo parts at all."

"I always thought that I finally found a home after I got into One Winged Angel. But I guess not. I never knew you, Fang, would eventually turn against me too and use your crappy ballad song as a way to tell me I'm useless."

There was only silence after Iggy's little speech. I was horrified; where was the Iggy I knew? The happy-go-lucky, always hopeful and always motivated drummer? My blind little drummer boy: Where did he go? "Iggy, what happened to you?" I whispered under my breath.

It happened all too quickly. In a moment, Fang had rushed towards Iggy, dragged him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the practice room mirror, the mirror shattering into shards. "Holy mother…Gazzy!" I yelled.

We rushed towards the shattered mirror and tried to break the wrestling pair apart. Gazzy had his arms wrapped around Iggy, even though Iggy was like two heads taller than him and the two of them fell to the ground with a sickening crack, signifying that someone had broken their bones…and Gazzy's yelp a millisecond later confirmed it.

Before Fang could pummel Iggy, I grabbed a hold of him from behind. "Fang, STOP IT." I yelled angrily. "Just be noble and let this go!"

"How can a leader of an idol group let this go if the leader just got insulted by their own band mate, huh? How? Tell me, because I want to know. How can a leader of an idol leader let this go if a new song written by the leader gets panned?" He snarled viciously. He looked like a raging black cat, fangs and claws and all.

In fury, I slammed him against the other non-broken mirror while Gazzy started to sob from his broken wrist. Holy shit, we were becoming savages! "Look at Iggy! Look at Gazzy! They're all in a mess! Iggy shouldn't have said that to you, I know, but the poor kid's had a rough day, so just let it go, alright?"

In the end, Fang sighed and nodded. I smiled tiredly. "Awesome," I replied. "I'm going out to buy coffee. We all need to take a breather." Painfully, I glanced at Gazzy, who was now rolling around on the floor, clutching his wrist. I totally felt for the poor kid; thank goodness there was no Gilderoy Lockhart here to remove ALL the bones from his body!

But there was no Madam Pomfrey to mend the bones back in a heartbeat either…

"Get Gazzy to the kitchen and put some ice packs on his hand to reduce the swelling. Then, tell D – I mean, Jeb to get Gazzy to the hospital." I ordered.

"Yes, sir," Fang said with a salute. With that, I left the villa, with my wallet in tow.

* * *

"Damnit, I knew I had it in here!" I groaned loudly as the cashier clad in the familiar forest-green apron snapped her bubble gum loudly. Forget it; I never had my wallet in tow. And right, just a RAQ (Rarely Asked Question): Do ALL cashiers and waiters chew bubble gum while at work in Los Angeles? New essay topic? I think so!

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I think I left my wallet back home." The cashier, half-asleep, grunted at me. "Mmm…"

I rolled my eyes. "Geez…superior service you have here…" I was about to leave when the barista standing a feet away from the cashier signalled for me to walk over. I was hesitant; should I or should I not?

…

**YEEEEEEEUS!** Free hot chocolate for the win! "It's on me." He said with a wink. I would've been flattered…if I weren't a guy myself. "Uh, sure," I replied as I noticed a familiar-looking streak of black marker on the cup. A phone number was scribbled on, with a heart at the end and a name.

"Call me, honey," He called from the counter. Thank God I was wearing my hood and a scarf around my neck that covered my mouth so no one could recognize who I was.

The walk back home was less than peaceful. I had to walk twenty minutes to get here, and of course it was another twenty minute walk back home. Though it was only ten thirty at night, it was pretty creepy, with humongous shadows protruding from the simplest things, like garbage cans…and…is that a black ca –?

"EEP!" I shrieked loudly as I felt a sudden tug on my jacket and into a dark alleyway. I found myself facing five young men, all of them around the same age as me, with piercings, tattoos, wrinkles and all. Talk about a major disaster…

"Dude, are you sure this is the right one?" The burly, muscular one asked with a baseball bat in tow.

"Sure, I'm sure! He's the one in the picture. See, Dylan?" Ah, Dylan equals the burly, muscular one with a baseball bat in hand.

"But whoever this person is…he's a DUDE. Not a GIRL. And I am sure my honey would never tell us to beat up a man."

"Damnit, Dylan, stop being such a pussy! Yo, if you want to see if this HE is a girl or not, then pull down his pants!" Holy shit times ten. I am so, so, so screwed.

Suddenly, the one named Dylan ran towards me and raised his bat. "I'm just not going to pull down his freaking pants! Yo, you mess with my girl, you're going to get it." He snarled viciously.

Ah, show time, folks.

I delivered a quick blow to the stomach with my foot, and got up onto my feet just as Dylan staggered backwards. "I don't know who you are, but you better not mess with me or you're just in for more and more trouble." I cried, spitting at the floor.

FRICK, I completely forgot there were three more men behind me! Two held onto my arms while one of them raised a dagger and sliced at the front of my sweater, revealing my…t-shirt! "Heh, you don't know who you're messing with, pervert."

I bit hard onto the hands of those groping assholes, tasting the bitter metallic taste of blood in my mouth and twisted the arms of the sweater slicer, hearing the sickening crunch and crack of the bones.

But for some strange reason, I was starting to get weary and tired from my ordeal. I was ready to collapse onto the ground. "You have such weak stamina…" Dylan muttered under his breath as he raised his bat again, ready to bash my skull (And possibly damage my medulla oblongata – another Biology lesson before I die)…

"Yo!"

That voice; that familiar voice has become my saviour. I glanced behind me to find…

"Fang!" I cried ever so happily. "Ari!" Clutching several broken beer bottles in his hand, Fang swung it at my attackers, managing to pierce several of them in the arm. Hearing Dylan scream could not be more welcoming to my ears. "We'll be back for you," Dylan shrieked as he dropped the baseball bat in pain. "You better watch your step around here! C'mon, boys, time to go!"

In a matter of moments, they all escaped, leaving trails of blood into the dim moonlight. Fang rushed towards me. "Are you alright?" He asked, totally breathless. I sighed, my heartbeat finally coming back to its steady _**Lub-Dup, Lub-Dup**_. "Yeah, I'm fine. You? You look winded."

"I…" He tried to stand up, but his ankle gave away and…yep, he twisted his ankle. Why do we have so many injuries today? One Winged Angel is so, so prone to injuries and strains. "Can you walk?" I asked worriedly as I stood up. I was about to collapse, but I managed to hold my ground.

"I don't think I twisted it that badly…" But he buckled onto the ground, anyway. "Oh, God, Fang, are you alright? I'm so sorry…" Instead, he only smirked at me. "Why are you sorry, anyway? Well…" He gave off a thoughtful expression. "If you DO want to make it up to me, help me back home."

"How?" I asked as I cocked my head to one side.

* * *

"UGH, **WHY ARE YOU SO HEAVY?**" I cried as we made our way up the drastically steep hill. Oh, right, with me, I had a one hundred and thirty pound backpack

"Because I'm not made of fat, I'm made of muscle which does, in fact, weigh much, much more than fat!"

I snorted. "Every single mammal is made up of fat. You cannot be made of pure muscle, unless you're that bird kid leader who, apparently, is made up of total muscle. I don't remember which book it was though…strange…"

I have also never, ever, in my entire life, blushed so hard in my entire life. My captain, my band leader, my vocalist and guitarist, my saviour, my hero; Fang Robertson…

My God, did I just _**THINK**_ all that? Come on, Max, get a hold of yourself!

Just as we reached the front door of the villa, Fang clambered off of my back and onto his feet. "I could've crawled myself up the hill and made it here in nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds." He complained.

"Yeeeah, right! Though I am never going to open up my 'Ari's Transportation Company' ever again…" I said, gasping for breath. Fang chuckled. "Come on, let's go inside."

Just as we walked into the living room, we saw Dad, Gazzy and Iggy all sitting by the television, all of them equally immersed in a show about cornea transplants.

"Uh, what's up, guys?" I asked curiously. Seriously, they were ALL staring at the television show like it was pure gold or something. Suddenly, Iggy stared at me. This time, however, his stare wasn't a total blank gaze. There was determination and hope set in them.

"Ari? Fang? I want to get a cornea transplant."

* * *

**So, this is the end of Chapter 11! What did you guys think? I felt that I rushed Fang's family thing too much, buuuut C: It's okay, right? Haha. Anyways, thank-you guys for helping me reach 122 reviews (?) I think that's it! You guys are super, super awesome, and if I could, I would bake some chocolate chip cookies right now and deliver them in specially marked boxes to each of you! Unfortuately, I can't :C Sooo, virtual cookies will do!**

**Anyways, please continue to R & R! There will be more Iggy x Max coming soooon C: And of course, Fang being jealous CCC:**

**Iggy & Max - YOU. MUST. BE. CRAZAAAY!  
Sam C: - Well, there ARE some Miggy shippers out there.  
Fang - I hate you.  
Sam C: - I hate chuu tooo!  
Angel - Do it, do it, CHUU, it's true, true, true, true, it's CHUU! Do it, do it, CHUU!  
Nudge - Do itt...CHUUUUUUU!  
Total - Chew? As in...CHEW TOY? C:  
Gazzy - R & R everybody!  
**

**I'll see you guys sooon! In the meantime, Merry early Christmas guys! Drink lotsa hot chocolate and stay warm and cozy! C: **

**Luff,**

**Sam C: **


	12. Chapter 12

****

Hey guys! It's Sam C: here! And I have FINALLY managed to update My Fair Lady with a new chapter! I hope it was worth the wait; approximately seven thousand plus words on a +number of sixteen pages! Enjoy! C:

**First off, I'd like to apologize for the delay. :C As many of you know, I have school, and school just sucks the energy away from me like a leech/vampire. :C And of course, this week was...the ever so dreaded PROVINCIAL WEEK! But as I had my first (And final) one of Semester one (Oh, the dreaded English provincial), well, it just made sense to celebrate with a NEW CHAPTER!**

**Secondly, I'd just like to take the time to express my deepest thank-yous! I'm very thankful for the 136 (Or was it 137? Oh my God, I suck at memorization LOL XD) reviews given to me! Your constructive criticism, reviews and feedback definitely make my day. No joke there. C: So, thank-you lovely, awesome, completely amazing and fabulous readers! **

**And lastly...**

**Max - YOU'RE BAAACK!  
****Sam C: - Yes, yes, I'm back! HIGH FIVES EVERYBODY!  
-Everybody hugs/high fives except for Fang-  
Sam C: - Why is Mr. McGrumpy so grumpy today?  
Fang - I am not looking forward to this chapter; simple as that.  
Sam C: - I think somebody is eating dry vinegar!  
Nudge - Ewww, gross much? Who would eat vinegar DRY?  
Sam C: - No, Nudge Fudge, it's just a saying in Chinese, meaning that somebody is jeaaaaaaaalous!  
Iggy - I read over the Chapter. YOU MUST BE OUT OF YOUR MIND.  
Angel - Guys, guys, I'm sure Sam C: has her limits set...  
Max - ANGEL! READ THIS!  
Angel - HOW COULD YOU, SAMMY?  
Gazzy - Uh oh! Looks like Sammy is in for some trouuuuuuble!  
Sam C: - NO, GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!  
**

_**(Lissa's Point of View)**_

"I can-_**NOT**_ believe you failed! How could you betray me, and **LIE** stating that you beat that little bitch up? I said you'd get this when you fulfilled your task, **NOT** when you _**FAILED**_." I screeched angrily as I wrapped my pink silk bathrobe over my body.

Dylan looked at me, eyes narrowing as he hugged the blanket closer to his body. "It's not my problem. You're the one who didn't give me enough info. We all couldn't believe that the little jerk is, in fact, a girl!"

"Well, either way, you failed," I spat bitterly. I looked at our clothes sprawled all over the carpet. "And you used me for your own sexual pleasure!"

"You're one to talk," He snorted sarcastically. However, instead of rolling back into bed and sleeping, he got out of bed, pulled on his boxers and wrapped his arms around me. Talk about…

"What in the WORLD are you doing?" I hissed, trying to free his grasp around my waist.

"I'll promise you that I won't let you down, okay?" He murmured into my neck. "Oh, God, you smell like vanilla."

"Get the hell away from me; I'm only doing this because I want that little bitch out of One Winged Angel, for good. She should've known what the consequences were for impersonating a male and getting close to Fang." I said, pushing him away forcefully.

"Are you sure you weren't day-dreaming? I mean, you have a high tolerance for alcohol, but you…" His voice faltered as he noticed the steely glint emitting from my eyes.

"I, for sure, saw breasts underneath that shirt. Don't question me; I know what I saw, and I know what my purpose is now." I was now crawling around on my knees, rummaging through the piles of clothes. "Get dressed. I'm sick of the hotel smell, and Mommy's going to wonder why I'm so late for the album jacket photo shoot with…" I made a gagging noise. "The gruesome threesome…"

"I thought you hated the girls?" The tone was questioning, and once again, I shot him another hazardous scowl.

"Of course I do. They're in my way towards world domination of the music industry. I mean," I flipped my red hair and sighed amorously at my reflection. Dang, even after a sweaty make-out session, I _still _looked fabulous.

"I am, in fact, the entire package. I am what everybody wants. There isn't a single doubt about it." I winked at myself in the mirror, and then whirled around. "Come on, let's go. You're supposed to be driving me, and Mommy isn't supposed to know I'm using my chauffeur as my dark knight to defeat…" I growled slightly. "The evil princess."

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

About a day after Iggy's sudden declaration for the end towards his blindness, the entire One Winged Angel family (Dad included) had tried to come up with the most brilliant lists of reasons/excuses as to why Iggy should NOT get a cornea transplant.

After around thirty-hours of brainstorming since the day his pledge to undergo surgery, Gazzy dragged him from the dinner table ("I'm missing out on my delicious hamburger!") and pushed him down onto the red love seat.

"What do you want? I was just getting to the pickle!" Iggy groaned, totally annoyed.

I coughed, interrupting his complaints. "We, as the entire One Winged Angel family, have come to the conclusion that…"

Enter dramatic page flipping of a large notepad scribbled in blue thick Sharpie, titled '10 Reasons as to Why James Iggy Unknown-Last-Name Should Not Get a Cornea Transplant'. Yes, and if you **MUST** know, it was the beautiful cursive writing of Fang; the best thing I could muster out are non-perfectly proportioned dotted I's and V's.

Right, as well as, enter loud banging of a meter stick on the notepad. "Holy crap!" Gazzy shrieked, jumping a foot away and into the non-supportive arms of Dad (Which were hanging limply on his sides), thus having him collide loudly onto the wooden floor boards. Oh, dear.

Fang shot him an uncertain glance, enclosing the message 'Only girls will jump at the sound of a banged meter stick.' Gazzy, with his arm in a cast, stood back up and glared at Dad. "I'm fine; **THANKS!**"

"Shut up, Gazzy!" I said, and then I cleared my throat. "Anyway, as I was saying before Gazzy caused a rather large commotion, the entire One Winged Angel family, have come up with ten wonderful reasons as to why you, Iggy, should not get a cornea transplant."

At the sound of "cornea transplant", Iggy's ears perked up.

"Reason number one, flip the page if you please, Fang," I ordered. "Reason number one: Iggy, you don't need a cornea transplant. Fans love you for who you are. They enjoy your skill with the drums in the group, and because of it, you have rather large fan base, so why in the world would you want one anyway?"

"Reason number two, you're not blind to the point that you don't know anything. You know the locations of everything in the villa, you know how to cook, and you know the entire drum set like the back of your hand!" After a pause, I looked at Iggy, who was staring emotionless at us. A funny feeling of uneasiness started to grow in the pit of my stomach.

"I think it's working very well!" Gazzy whispered in my ear. I shook him away. I mean, c'mon, I'm losing my vibe if I get interrupted! And are my eyes deceiving me? Or…

"Reason number three…"

_**BANG! **_

In a flash, Iggy kicked the coffee table over, turning over the fruit basket, with apples, oranges and pears thrown around midair, knocking over the notepad set on the whiteboard, as well as hitting both Dad and Gazzy on the nose.

"And now, I can truthfully reply that no, this plan did NOT work," I grumbled through gritted teeth as a very gushy orange went splat all over my hair, with pulp dripping continuously and stinging my eyes with juice. _**Greeat**_ – mental note: Never let Gazzy or Dad go to a cheap market to buy groceries ever again.

"Is this another way to insult me?" Iggy cried angrily. "God, I thought that as band mates, you were going to support me with my decision. Look, it's my life; I know how I want to live it, and this is what I want to change about myself! If you don't like it, you can easily get the fuck out!" And with that, he banged into the nearby lamp, cussing once more.

I have never, ever heard the cool, calm and collected Iggy drop the F-Bomb in the house before. Shocked as I was, and horribly sticky with the juice starting to dry on my clothes as well as face (The plus side was that I gave off a very orange-y aroma), I began to chase after him.

Only to be pulled back by Fang. **ARGH!** Double the annoyance! I wrung my hand away from his grasp. "I've got to run after him! We can't lose him!"

"Let him cool down," Fang opposed. "He's an adult, and – "

"I don't freaking give a crap if he's an adult or not! As one of his band mates, I'm worried about him, and letting him cool down isn't the best solution right now! Just take care of Dad and Gazzy now; they're the ones that need the most immediate attention!"

He couldn't argue with that; blood was gushing out like a waterfall from their nostrils from the traumatic impact on the nose with two granny-smith apples. Not only did I have to face a future of running through Los Angeles with (Embarrassingly enough) orange juice on my face, I also had to deal with the fact that Dad was no longer going to make his apple turnovers until he sees his psychiatrist for help to cope with his phobia of apples.

Without saying another word, I hurriedly put on my shoes and dashed out of the parlour and into the cool air.

* * *

Man, life can be such a little bitch sometimes. Here I am, soaked in the juices of the yummy citrus, jogging along the streets of quiet Los Angeles to find where my blind band mate could be, with Fang tending to the wounds of Dad and Gazzy.

After ten minutes of searching, though, I thought I heard a cry emit from the subway station. "It must be a stray cat or something…" But needless to say, anything was possible. I crept inside to find…

"Iggy!"

I rushed towards him and wrapped my arms around him. "Iggy, thank _GOODNESS_ I found you! I've been looking all over for you!"

"_**WHY IN THE GOD FORSAKEN WORLD DO YOU HAVE YOUR ARMS AROUND MY BOYFRIEND**_?" echoed in the subway station loudly a millisecond after I put my arms around 'Iggy'.

Crap. I quickly wrapped my scarf around my mouth and nose, and then whirled around to find myself staring into the puny yet threatening eyes of an overweight, pudgy female with her arms crossed over her chest.

Then, I looked truly into the face of the 'crying' man, whose eyeballs protruding furiously as he continuously shook his head, mumbling 'No, no, no, don't come back with a condom, don't come back with a condom'.

Needless to say, it wasn't Iggy.

And I was going to suffer the consequences.

Luckily, the subway came to a stop at that exact moment. Doors opening, I jumped in at lightning speed before the ginormous prune could get to me with her jabbing pink claws of doom.

Immaturely, I made a face (Stuck out my tongue is more like it) as she pounded the glass doors furiously, giving me the middle finger at the same time. _WHATEVER MAN_; a great tub of lard like her was NEVER fast enough for the brilliant Maximum Ride.

"SUCKER!" I yelled triumphantly, doing a 'happy dance' so to speak.

"If you want to find somebody, you ought to look for them in places where it is secluded during midnight."

I turned, blood turning chillingly cold at the voice. Seated on one of the plastic seats was…

My eyes widened happily (And the rest of the blood in my body warmed up by a considerable amount). "Iggy! It is you! I've been looking all over for you!" Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him. And of course, he pushed me away.

"Don't give me this namby-pamby, wishy-washy affection." He spat, and I winced at the amount of venom concealed within his voice. But his mouth looked less thin after I hugged him. Less thin mouth equals the ability to sit beside him and talk. Total score.

"Okay, then…let us…" I inched into the seat. "Sit and talk, then."

By the time we reached the next stop, however, he barely said a word. And I was starting to feel the pressures of uncontrollable awkwardness between two people in a secluded subway train. However, as the train started to rush away once again, I spoke.

"Iggy, I'm really, really sorry about what happened tonight," I said, speaking to my palms instead of him. Surprised, he glanced at me.

"We, as a team, really care about you. I know that once you discovered other options that may help you overcome your blindness, you are willing to do whatever it takes to obtain your vision back. I get that, I understand that."

"But you also have to know that we weren't trying to insult you in any way. We just want you to think this through thoroughly." Try saying that ten times fast; I challenge you! "And let's say, the operation does go smoothly and you do get your vision back, will you feel any difference between the blind Iggy and the non-visually-impaired Iggy?" I paused for a moment, only to see his impassive expression. Does this mean I can continue? Probably…

"I mean, think about it. The blind Iggy can cook a mean cheese omelette like no other person in the house," A quick glance, and…YES! I thought I saw his frown uplift by a tad. "The blind Iggy can beat the drum kit AND know the different components of the kit like a genius Grade 12 student memorizing the different sexual organs of the reproductive system, AND all of this is what makes you…well, you."

I look right at him, and instead of the small uplifted smile, it enlarged into a full-blown grin. "You know what, Ari? Apart from Gazzy and Fang, you amuse me to a large extent. Congratulations."

Uh-oh. The awkwardness has come back. Was he expecting me to continue on? I forgot my notes! I…I don't HAVE them with me!

"But Ari," His voice trailed off when he said my name. I looked out the window to see the moonlight shining reflectively off of him, giving off (NO, NOT SENSUAL) unique, angular and defined cheekbones that I had never seen before.

"You need to understand something too. It's my life that we're talking about here." At that, I had nothing left to say. I knew he was right, and that our meddling was most definitely uncalled for. "I know that all of you, particularly you for taking the time to chase after me, really care about me…" The moon casted it's moonlight down onto his hair, highlighting the tips of his neat spikey bristles. He looked angelic; really, he did.

"But I know what I'm going to have to deal with in the future. I'm not a five-year-old; I know what I'm dealing with here. I know what the surgery is about. What you said before…really touched me. But there are sometimes that…my disability just gets the best of me."

"I can't interact with my fans too well, I need to be described how the drum beats to every new song goes, and as much as I am a fantastic cook, I do have a tendency to cut my fingers, almost close to amputating them from my hand." With that, I had to give off a chuckle. Whaaat? Don't give me that look; it's funny! Okay, not really…

"If I am given the opportunity to get my vision back, then I'm going to take it. There are some risks that are worth taking in life, and when the momentum is right, you're just going to have to take a dive and see what's in store. Am I right?" He smiled hopefully at me, while I could only sigh, pushing my feet up onto the seat right in front of us.

"You have your points, but we also have ours. I'm just so conflicted right now about what's going on. One, I really do support you, but two, I'm afraid that we're going to lose you." I admitted, sinking deeper into the cushion of the seat.

His voice was skeptical when I said this. "Lose me? I'm not going anywhere! I'm still going to be Iggy, no matter what happens. I'm still going to play drums, and I'm still going to cook apple turnovers." In an attempt to cheer me up, he poked me in the sides, and I squealed.

"Dude, you suck!" I said, half-amused. Then, I sighed. "Alright, I agree with you."

"Well, I know my decision is not going to make you happy." He was still troubled. Man, what a thoughtful guy. After some thought, he came up with a brilliant idea, as if a light bulb just clicked in his head. "How about this? I will inquire Dr. Henry to see if there are any cornea transplants available for me after my tests are complete. If he doesn't call back in two weeks, then I'll give up on the idea."

My eyes widened in shock. "Completely?"

"Yes, completely. I am trustworthy, no?"

"O-of course, you are!" I was still baffled, but I had complete trust in Iggy. "And…what if he calls back within that time frame?"

"Then, obviously, I'm going to schedule a surgery. Are you happy with that idea?" He raised his fifth finger as a sign of promise. I raised mine and intertwined it with his.

"Happy; most definitely happy."

By now, my watch started to beep. I read the electronic digits 12:30 A.M. I stifled a yawn while my eyes started to droop tiredly. "Are you tired?"

"Am I ever…and because of you having a fit, I got splashed with orange juice and ran for ten minutes to find you!" Iggy smirked. It wasn't one of those sexy "Fang" smirks though, but more of a playful, teasing one.

"I suppose we could…sleep on the train. Have you ever done that?" I shook my head. "No, not really. I never stayed out much…"

Iggy raised his shoulder. "An act of selflessness, I presume?" I teased.

"No, not really," He replied, his voice concealed his smile.

"Wake me up when my watch starts to beep. We need to take the train back so that we don't get hounded by our fans." It was all I could mumble before I completely blacked out and started snoring loudly on Iggy's shoulder.

* * *

Well, unfortunately, you could never count on Iggy.

Iggy never managed to wake up, so we ended up sleeping in the unmoving subway train for the entire morning. By the time I woke up, the janitor who was sweeping up the subway station floors was staring at the both of us incredulously that if he was going to stare any longer, his eyeballs were going to pop off.

Instead, we hurriedly jumped into a taxi cab before the morning rush of the subway could start. By the time we got home though, it was a completely different story compared to the one that I had with Iggy on the subway train.

Yes, Fang and Dad got on their "angry" faces, shouting themselves hoarse at why I (Apparently, everything was my fault) didn't call home the first thing I found him, and why we had to have a "sleepover party" on the subway train.

As much as I hated letting Dad down with my irresponsible behaviour, I admit that I enjoyed the wonderful time with Iggy. It was the first time that I really enjoyed myself and felt that I could be the "me" that I actually am. And plus, I got to connect with Iggy!

So, as punishment, I've been forced to do all of the disgustingly vile maid work at the villa after a very strenuous and tiring day of training or performing. It sucks. No, it's not because I'm one of those girly-girls that don't know how to do chores. It's what I **FIND** in the spaces of Gazzy's bed, clogged corners of Fang's room and obviously, my "neat and organized" father who actually has a stack of Playboy magazines concealed discreetly in a box labelled "Vegetables".

Yes, as well as a picture of Jenna Jameson taped onto his bedframe.

And with that, two weeks seemed to have gone by without a breeze. Time seemed to slip past my fingers so quickly, and believe it or not, it has been approximately one month since "Ari" debuted in One Winged Angel!

However, today is also known as the last day of the deadline for Dr. Henry's return phone call about cornea transplants. Knowing Dad and Fang, they needed some time to digest the pact I made with Iggy on the subway. Whether it was submerging themselves in a tub of icy cold water to "think things through thoroughly" or "locking inside their bedroom with two tubs of chocolate ice-cream to melt away the troubles", they (reluctantly so) agreed to the promise.

I glance at the clock while chewing on my lower lip. God damnit, I have got to stop doing that or else I'm going to continually have chapped lips that won't heal for –

Suddenly, the phone rang. At that moment, everything in time seemed to stop, except for the constant ringing of the phone.

"**PICK UP THE PHONE! I'M TRYING TO WATCH GLEE!**" Fang screamed from the living room. I rolled my eyes. Sure, I might have a tiny crush on him, and he MAY have rescued me…and…okay, FINE! I have a very large crush on him, but it does _NOT_ mean I'm not going to take his crap!

"_**IF YOU HAVE ANY FREE HANDS, THEN YOU GO PICK IT UP. I'M THE ONE IN CHARGE OF PICKING UP YOUR TRAPPED SNOT IN YOUR ROOM!**_" I screamed back. I heard from grumbling emit from the living room, but I picked up the phone away. Torturing Fang about his habit of picking boogers and flicking them into the corners of his room was no way to deal with the problem.

And plus, there was no phone found in the living room. He would've had to drag his butt a few metres away, which is a "trek just as tiring as climbing the Sahara Desert". (In all defense, Fang said this. As much as I have an unhealthy adoration for his cursive writing, I believe he failed geography as the Sahara Desert is mainly miles and miles of desert).

"Hello?"

"Hello? Is this Ari?"

"Yes, this is. May I ask who is calling?"

"Hi Ari! It's Dr. Henry from the hospital. Could I ask for your help to transfer a message to Iggy?"

I felt my eyes widen in shock, and for a moment, I felt as if I stopped breathing for a few long seconds. "O-of course. Hang on, let me just get a pen."

After exchanging good-byes, I look at the scribbles on the notepad.

_**September 24**__**th**__** - 8:30 A.M.**_

_**Corneal Transplant Surgery for Iggy**_

"Looks like fate has set up a date for Iggy to obtain his vision back after all," I murmured quietly.

* * *

"You look like a mint-flavoured lollipop." Gazzy observed while sucking on his own green-apple flavoured lollipop he bribed from one of the nurses at the reception desk. It was still dark, and the nurses were pretty fatigued so they pretty much gave away anything at the desk. If you asked them for a patient's "extremely confidential" (Like they have the T Virus or something) files, they would've given them to you too.

"You've had too much sugar for one day, my man," I said, pulling the lollipop out of his cavity-filled mouth and chucking it into the garbage. Suddenly, Dad came in, carrying a random duffel bag of mine filled with Iggy's toiletries, some clothes, as well as…

"Snacks? Apple chips?" I said, completely surprised while I rummaged through the contents of the bag. "Daaad, Iggy isn't a self-conscious health freak! What happened to all of the barbeque-flavoured potato chips and chocolate bars I told you to get?"

"Not to worry, Ari, I asked Manager Jeb to get them for me. I may not be a health freak, but you can't deny the yummy goodness of organic and dried sliced fruits." Iggy called from the hospital room bed, whose arm was hooked up to a very sophisticated-looking set of equipment, delivering an icky-looking fluid into his veins. The steady 'Beep, Beep' of his heart was a good sign; he wasn't nervous and was well-enough to crack jokes. Good signs, man, good signs.

Dad shot me a superior look at the same time I stomped my foot painfully on his own, resulting in a very loud 'YEOWCH!' If he keeps this up, he's going to have more than a painful foot and a partly broken nose to heal.

"Um, Jeb, Gazzy, do you mind going to the nearest Seven Eleven to get me another bag of apple chips?" Dad nodded, dragging a weeping Gazzy (About his stupid lollipop) with him. And obviously, Iggy did NOT want another bag of apple chips (He had a dozen in his duffel bag; I'm sure it could last him thirteen hours, if not more), but just the silence, and of course me…and of course…him.

Then, there was the awkward silence again.

"We're both so awkward, don't you think?" Iggy said airily as if it were no big deal. I leaned against the bed, then sinking down onto the soft mattress.

"Oh, I highly agree. An awkward person means awkward conversations with other awkward people." I replied.

"You're hilarious," Iggy complimented. I smiled, but it faltered as soon as I looked at him. "Are you nervous?" I asked, my tone softening.

Iggy shrugged. "Well, I don't know how you would define nervous. Excited, I am for sure. If you ask me if I'm anxious for the result, then definitely, I am. Nervous…" He looked thoughtful, but then it was replaced by a smile afterwards. "I'm not…because I got to know I have such a nice band of supporters behind me."

He gave my arm a comforting squeeze, even though I should be the one who is offering all that mushy gushy, comforting goodness to our dearest patient!

I tried to change the subject, without much success, but it managed to settle the worriedness that continually bugged my heart. "Are you even going to need all these? I mean, Dr. Henry did say you could be dispatched a few hours after the surgery."

Iggy snorted. "You want me home, I want myself home too! No, unfortunately. The Prez went hysterical and berserk when she found out I wanted a corneal transplant. Of course, she agreed with my decision, but then she decided 'it's best for you to remain in the hospital for a day so you understand the post-operative care procedures so well to the point you can copy them down word for word in a notebook.'" I was, however, sincerely touched at her offer. YES, I am TOUCHED by the Prez! Hmmm, is it just me or has she gotten much more caring about her artists?

A knock at the door interrupted my train of thought. It was Fang, bringing in a gentle-looking nurse. "Iggy, are you ready for your surgery?"

Iggy clapped his hands together. "Am I ever ready, nurse!" The nurse brushed me away brusquely and mumbled, "Excuse me, please" while adjusting Iggy's position.

While wheeling towards the operation room, I gripped onto the handles of the bed anxiously. "Iggy, you're going to be okay. I mean, you've still got to teach me how to bake a carrot cake!"

Iggy smiled feebly. "You don't think I will be? I think a carrot cake will be much too advanced for an amateur baker like you." Before Fang pried my sweaty fingers away from the handles of the wheeling bed, he clutched my own fingers. It didn't give off an awkward or a strange feeling; it shocked me to the point that it sent a warm feeling to the pit of my stomach.

The surgery doors closed behind the doctors, and there was only the four of us left in the hallway leading into the surgery room.

Fang placed a hand on my shoulder. "He's going to be fine. You don't need to worry."

I turned my head and smiled at him. "Of course I know that. I'm not going to worry. I'm just anxious about who's going to be in charge of buying more bags of apple chips for him."

The surgery wasn't going to take too long, but neither of us wanted to stay at the hospital for the entire length of the surgery. After all, Iggy was still going to be under the influence of the sedative, so it was better to wait at home rather than wait in the sickening scent of sterilized equipment.

Back home, however, it was a completely, totally different story.

Everything was normal. Gazzy with his unhealthy obsession with Arthur, Dad continually texting on his cell phone to god knows who he might be texting, and…Fang?

Well, Fang immediately rushed up (More like stomped up) to his bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind him. "Who pinned his tail on the donkey today?" I asked loudly, frowning slightly.

"I don't even know." Dad mumbled behind his Blackberry. "He's been acting like this since the day you and Iggy came home together."

I pursed my lips thoughtfully. "Hmmm, now that you mention it, Dad, you're right. I mean, not speaking at dinner, criticizing ME lately, all that lovely frowning…"

"Uh-huh, sure," Dad muttered.

"Who the hell are you texting?" In a quick swipe, I managed to pry his Blackberry away from his fingers and glance at the Contact.

I widened my eyes in surprise. "The PREZ?" He snatched his phone back, blushing to the roots of his hair.

"So what if I am texting the Prez? As a single father, I am allowed to type and send electronic messages to co-workers, am I right?" I rolled my eyes, holding my hands up high.

"Whatever, Dad, whatever you say…"

I was going to exit up to my room to take a nap, but as all the wise people say, "curiosity killed the cat". And my curiosity and anxiety for Fang got the best of me, so I tiptoed towards his bedroom door and opened it a crack.

If my eyes aren't deceiving me…I see a pair of white Dr. Dre's settled comfortably on Fang's ears, a black pen in tow and…he has a very flexible and bendy notepad (Or something of the like, I don't know how to describe it) nestled on where his penis lies.

"What in the world are you doing? Drawing on your penis?" I blurted out.

Fang immediately set the notepad down (Ah, a notepad; makes TOTAL sense!) and tossed the pen away. "It's called…a notepad," He stated menacingly. "And haven't you ever heard of basic manners? Such as knocking on one's door before you enter their private area of zen?"

"What's the matter with you, man? You've been acting so weirdly for the past two weeks." I said, stating my observations matter-of-factly.

"None of your business."

Greeeat – I try to help, and all I do is get a sneer and a disgusted glare from Mr. Grumpy McGrumper Pants once again.

"Fine…fine! I give up! Have it your way!" I shouted, feeling slightly guilty for throwing in the red flag so easily.

But really, YOU should've SEEN the SNEER! It was like…a mixture of dark, sexy AND evil at the same time! Not too hot, if you ask me…

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

Ari slammed the door in my face, and left me alone. For some reason, even though I should be feeling comforted and peaceful in my bedroom, I feel much more remorseful.

I don't know why; ever since Iggy and Ari started to spend a lot of time with each other, there has been a growing feeling of dread forming in my stomach. And I can't blame the sushi for it this time because the sushi would have been long digested a month ago.

Okay, so I mean, on one point, I'm extremely happy that Ari is fulfilling the roles of what a "leader" actually does. Like, I am the leader, of course, but I'm not good with all of those emotions. Too many emotions make a grumpy leader, and a grumpy leader makes a lousy performance, and lousy performances makes bad reviews…and you get the idea.

He offers comfort to those around him, and he has the ability to calm you down and tell you that everything is okay, even though the situation is COMPLETELY out of my control. He's like…a dad, I guess you can say. He's the dad in our One Winged Angel family.

But on the other end of the stick, it doesn't feel right that Iggy and Ari are spending so much time together. Everybody in One Winged Angel is extremely worried about Iggy, of course, but Ari…woo man…you should've seen the dark bags under his eyes!

He's been researching information about corneal transplant surgery a week after Dr. Henry called the villa to inform Iggy of a donor, he's been practicing how to cook (And really, his experiments are never deemed "edible") and somehow, he…has been isolating me away.

Well, I guess that is also considered my fault. I mean, I'm the "cool type". I'm not the "A-hee-hee! Poke, poke, poke!" or "Stay positive!" guy. That's just lame.

I sigh half-heartedly, and pick up the sketchpad nestled on my lap.

"I'm so conflicted…" I murmured to myself while staring at my "masterpiece". No, it's not an original Leonardo Da Vinci. More like…an original Nicholas Fang Robertson. Yeah, I could sell this and retire as a billionaire.

It's a portrait of Ari, smiling brightly at me.

"Argh, what's the point?" I rip the page away, rip it into shreds and discard the remaining bits of paper into the garbage can.

I guess I'll take a nap; no point in moaning anyway.

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

When we finally entered Iggy's hospital room, Iggy was sitting, completely upright while listening to music. I pulled an ear bud out. HEH, the little scoundrel will never know it's me!

"Nurse, I was JUST listening to that!" He complained.

"Now, now, dear Iggy, you must be patient!" I said as motherly as I could.

"You're not the nurse…" He said reflectively. "It's YOU, Ari, isn't it?"

I smiled cheerfully, even though he wasn't able to see it yet. "How are you feeling, Iggy? Was the surgery painful?"

"DID YOU BLEED?" I heard Gazzy emit from behind Dad, holding a bouquet of flowers. Dad had to whack him on the head to make sure the flowers were still in one piece.

"I don't really know," He admitted. "I was under the influence of the medicine for the duration of the surgery, so I don't have a clear sense of what happened. I'm off to see the doctor today, though." He added brightly.

The nice-looking nurse from yesterday arrived, equipped with a wheelchair in tow. "Iggy? Dr. Henry is ready to see you now!" The nurse helped Iggy into the wheelchair, and then was about to wheel him out into the hallway towards one of the offices in the other building when she cleared her throat.

"It is best if all of you come. Dr. Henry will also be here to explain the post-operative procedures, which are crucial in order for Iggy's newly stitched corneas to keep them healthy and clear."

Glancing at one another, we hurried along with the nurse. Apparently, in nursing shoes, you can also walk rather quickly, compared to those who are only around fifteen to twenty years old yet are wearing Converse sneakers. I will never make fun of those nursing shoes ever again.

"Can I have another lollipop when – "

"No."

We finally arrived at Dr. Henry's office. The nurse cleared her throat once again, and rapped on the ugly vomit-green painted door. "Dr. Henry? It's Crystal. I have brought Iggy to see you."

"You can bring him in, Crystal. My door's open." We soon found ourselves facing a very friendly-looking doctor. Still, I don't trust doctors that much. Sorry, buddy, but it's personal. I have always had nightmares of evil-looking doctors inserting all these injections into my body to make me more "powerful" when I was younger. Hence, another phobia of mine: Doctors, as well as the icky smell of sanitized equipment that wafts throughout the hospital.

"So, Iggy!" Dr. Henry said, his dark brown hair was slowly fading to grey, but it didn't signify that he was getting any older. Probably mid-thirties or early forties…I'll say…give or take a few years…

"Do you feel any tiredness or pain in your eyes?"

Iggy shook his head. "Not really, but it's all thanks to Nurse Crystal and her daily doses of Tylenol that keep me from swearing in the hospital room."

"Now, Iggy," Dr. Henry began, his tone slightly amused. "I'm going to start peeling your bandages off, alright?"

"Ready for you, Dr. Henry,"

Slowly and carefully, Dr. Henry raised his hands and started to peel away at the patch. It took an infuriatingly long time (Maybe around fifteen minutes totally), but when he finally set them down on the desk, I stared at Iggy for a loooong period of time.

"Can you see at all?" I asked curiously.

Iggy blinked his eyes several times, having some tears leak out from the corners. Finally, he opened them and stared at ME; just me, no one else.

After a moment, he spoke.

"So this is…you? You're…Ari? The one who chased me around for ten minutes with orange pulp sliding down your face?" He whispered so quietly it was almost inaudible, reaching up with his hand to touch my cheek.

I nodded solemnly. "That would be me, yes indeed."

"Iggy, you look DASHING with your new eyes!" Gazzy said jokingly, thrusting the bouquet of flowers into Dad's hands.

"AH!" I cried, throwing my hands out. "You cannot touch the patient yet! He needs his rest!"

Dr. Henry examined Iggy's eyes for several more minutes until he put his penlight back into the pocket of his white shirt. "I do not think you will need the patches anymore, Iggy. You're free to go home!"

* * *

"Dude, are you SERIOUS? This is how much Los Angeles changed since I was three?" Iggy cried, completely captured by the brilliance of the cityscape.

I couldn't blame him though. The poor guy hasn't been able to see since he was a child. You should've seen the look on his face when he actually saw how Fang, Gazzy and Dad looked like.

Right, right, did I forget to mention his expression when he saw HIMSELF in the mirror? He was so freaked out; he refused to look at the mirror until I forced him to.

Needless to say, as much as I hate to admit it, Iggy was much, much happier without his disability. In a matter of days, CME Entertainment released an official statement regarding about Iggy, his surgery and his after-thoughts, and his fans obviously still loved him, no matter what!

Iggy was so astounded by just the simplest things around him; it was such an adorable scene to watch. He was captivated the birds sitting on the lawn, joggers taking their dogs for a run (Particularly the really busty one that lived just a few blocks away who only wears a sports bra and sweats) and even the television screen, giving off images of that we see every single day.

To Iggy, though, it meant so much more.

Now, though, I seem to have realized why Iggy wanted to undergo the corneal transplant surgery so much.

To us, we have luxuries that we can enjoy. Examples? Television shows, songbirds in trees, the beach, and the light-illuminated streets packed with people. Yet, we often take them for granted. We always see them, so we never take a hold of it.

We don't know what we've got till it's gone, simply put.

For Iggy, however, every single thing comes as a gift. Song birds, as annoying as they are to us, became beautiful melodies for Iggy, the drum kit mystified him to the extent he took a feather duster to wipe off all of the dust due to a lack of care for it, and of course, as a regular guy with regular male hormones, spying on busty goddesses jogging throughout the neighbourhood became a regular pastime of his. The ability to see is such a mysterious force that it transformed him completely!

_Enough of my reflection though…_

It has been approximately one week since his surgery, and his vision has improved dramatically. I mean, of course, he was able to see, but his vision was blurred. With time, however, his vision should improve drastically.

"I'd like to make a fact clear," Iggy said one evening as I helped him put the steroid eye drops away.

"Really? And what's that?" I asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"That I don't regret getting the surgery at all." I only smiled, shaking my head. "Obviously not. All you like to talk about nowadays during dinner time is how that jogger possibly has Double D breasts!"

"Hey, don't describe me so terribly to the extent that I sound like a horny pervert." He said seriously, making the whole situation even funnier.

"But admit it, Iggy; you are a horny, horny male in need of pleasure." I said matter-of-factly.

"Am NOT!"

In a matter of moments, we were engaged in a tickling battle.

"STOP IT!" I said, my stomach cramping due to the inability of giggling as well as coughing at the same time.

"Then admit that I am NOT a pervert! Take all of it back!"

This would have been fun except for several things…

Iggy accidentally pecked my cheek. When I mean peck, I don't mean the "chicken" kind of peck, but the placing-his-lips-on-my-cheek kind of peck.

At the same time, we turned our heads at the same time, so our lips were only about…a rough estimate…of one inch away from each other's.

**Right, right, one more thing if the whole situation could not turn any worse: His hands, elongated and pale, found their way up to my chest. I could literally feel Iggy's heart pounding; yes, it was THAT strong.**

And his eyes widened in shock. "A-Ari…I think…you have mountains…erupting…from your um…" He turned bright red now, totally embarrassed.

…

I knew there had to be a reason as to why I didn't want Iggy to get the surgery in the first place!

"Well, on second thought, Iggy…" I said, slowly backing away. "I think my chest erupted volcanoes, so to speak…"

Yep; one of the most brilliant weapons located in my arsenal: Make an awkward joke to get out of the sticky mess.

But I think this was one mess that could not be mopped up, no matter how hard you tried…

* * *

**DUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUNNNNNNNNNNN! Yes! Iggy is the FIRST one to discover that Ari, is indeed, a girl! Ooh, more suspense and more drama for me to write. Suh-weet. C:  
Anyways, here are the shout-outs to my faithful readers and reviewers of Chapter 9, 10 and 11! **

**SallSall  
Blank  
Ari  
KC  
Faxbeliever02  
jahfreenalam  
porcupine451  
oO2YourBestNightmare3Oo  
i'm short  
lila18  
Call Me Bitter  
Keeptappin92  
booklover98  
alsin  
A Well Wisher  
Mrs Fangalicious  
Ally  
Beeni  
MidNyteMelody  
I Do Not Know Your Name XD  
Shayna-18  
BlueButterfliesPlayOnMyGuitar  
THEYELLOWROSE  
deathtobieber  
ShadowDweller97**

**THANK-YOU GUYS! C: You guys are just the most awesome people a writer could ever want, and I couldn't ask for anything else. XDD As always, take care of yourself guys! Make sure to keep warm and stay dry! January is so rainy for me, I'm very upset. AND PFFT, with the "humongous amount of snow we were supposed to expect this year". PFFFFFFFFT! Anyway, I'll try to force myself to update more. (Prays that I will get my off block so I can get opportunities to write more) and hopefully, the delay won't be THIS long! **

**See you guys again soon! **

**Luff,**

**Sam C: **


	13. Chapter 13

**Heeey guys! It's Sam C: here, sending off my latest chapter of My Fair Lady! So, first off, I'm SUPER sorry for the really delayed update. It's just that school has been driving me insane (With all the homework and tests and stuff like that), as well as other personal issues that need to be dealt with. Fortunately though, today is the second day of my Spring Break, which means I was able to finish up Chapter 13 TONIGHT and ALSO upload it tonight (Otherwise you wouldn't be reading this right now...Lolol XD)!**

**So, I'm HOPING to get started on Chapter 14! I know many of you are awaiting for the day that Fang discovers Max for who she TRULY is, but rest assured, there will be more Fax coming up in later chapters! In the meantime, I thank-you for your patience for waiting for Chapter 13 and I hope youe njoy! C: Wow, nineteen pages. Eep! XD**

**Without further ado...let's...START!**

**Max - You. Suck.  
Sam C: - Excuse me?  
Fang - You. Suck.  
Sam C: - Um, that I can manage from you...but from YOU, Max?  
Gazzy - But you do! What TOOK you all these years to update!  
Sam C: - School.  
Nudge - Oh, honey...were you operated on too?  
Sam C: - DON'T BE RIDICULOUS.  
Angel - Are you sure you aren't a test tube baby, Sammy?  
Sam C: - Yes, Angel. I'm positive.  
Iggy - And what's with all the curt answers? Did somebody pin YOUR tail on the donkey today?  
Sam C: - Cause you guys are asking stupid questions that you know the answers to! And NO, Iggy, if you MUST know, I do not even have a TAIL to pin on the donkey! And we don't even HAVE a donkey!  
****Total - Sam is blowing up sooooooon...she's like a volcano! Erupting! WHOOSH WHOOSH!  
Sam C: - Let's just..get on...with the story...okay?**

**

* * *

**I had to admit: I was in deep, _**deep**_ trouble. When I was younger, I never had a problem with boys. Probably because whenever they tried to get their grubby hands on me for whatever reason possible, I would actually beat the crap out of them. Life was easier then, too. You didn't have to worry about "Oh, he likes her and she likes him! But oh, wait, she doesn't deserve him so I'm going to do my best to rip these two apart! Oh, wait, now I like him! Now we're in this big tangled mess of love and war!"

See, back then, I was known as Miss Congeniality's Gracie Hart Number 2; dissing the prissy girls in their "quivering" Barbie glory, refusing to wear the frilly dresses at social events hosted by my mother, as well as (Said above), beating the crap out of other boys whenever they tried to touch me.

With that being said, right now, I can't seem to bring the courage to knock Iggy away. His new turquoise-blue almond-shaped eyes seemed to avoid holding a gaze with me. Of course, this is **IGGY** we're talking about. Iggy, a very sexually-deprived and horny, _horny_ boy, whose hands seemed to remain partially frozen on my "erupted volcanoes?" Talk about awkwardness to the extent of I-Don't-Even-Know-What-To-Call-It-Anymore.

I had to admit; I would have loved to be in the shoes of that bosomy jogger with her pink sports bra as well as mini black shorts. I would rather be stalked from afar, than be touched.

Slowly, but surely, I lifted my own hands and placed his back onto the mattress, patting them slightly. "Well – uh, I'm tired." I said airily, stretching. "I think I'll just walk into my – "

"Why do you have volcanoes?" He blurted out, suddenly snapping back into reality and covering his mouth.

Oh, dear. This just proves to me Iggy has little (Or maybe none) experience with women. It's a pretty frightening scene. Iggy's just like a newborn baby when it comes to the ladies; first, he experiences the breasts, second…ah, forget it.

"Because…I…like…volcanoes, and I always thought there was no purpose to male nipples…so I decided to make clay sculptures of volcanoes…and attach them on my chest," I stated matter-of-factly. More like lying.

Okay, wow, even I cannot believe that I just spit out the most flimsy excuse ever, in the World History Book of Excuses.

"Now, I know you're lying, _**Ari**_," He emphasizes on the name. Do I have any idea why? Note the sarcasm.

I sighed half-heartedly. "Fine, fine,"

"We really need to have a talk. Just the two of us," He muttered, peering at the door skeptically. I nod my head in agreement. "Know of any secluded places found in the house that nobody will go to?"

I mean, Dad and Gazzy were having the time of their lives downstairs, belting out random soundtracks from Glee, and Fang was…Fang, of course, hiding in the isolation of his room.

After a moment of thinking, Iggy's eyes lit up. "I know the perfect place."

* * *

"That's your story? Seriously?" Iggy said, dumbfounded.

I nodded. "Not necessarily what you would call 'dramatic', but in my defense, hiding bloody tampons, as well as pads, in a secret crate in my room and impersonating my brainless git of a twin brother is rather…intense."

He laughed airily, leaning back against the outdoor rocking bench, making it swing slightly in the cool night air. "That explains it." He mumbled thoughtfully.

That perked my ears up, and so did my eyes! "Did you already figure out I was a girl from the start?" **CRAP**. If that happened (Considering that Iggy was blind during that time), that means I must've never managed to fool the other guys either! Oh, crud, crud, crud, crud…

He shook his head. Phew! Much better.

Although, not really, because his brows are furrowing.

"Well, I had my suspicions. Remember the day you and Fang were glued together like a Fang and Ari sandwich?"

I rolled my eyes, memories of that faithful day flooding back into my brain. Yes, I remembered every single detail of that accidental kiss: My supreme football tackle at Fang, resulting in the two of us rolling down the horrid short flight of steps and the beetles coming straight towards me. Ah, those were the good old days.

"I went outside to check out what the noise was," He continued, interrupting my train of thought. "Little did I know, it was Manager Jeb scolding you, Ari, and I couldn't help but overhear…"

I shook my head in disgust at myself. "Is that why you've been trying to get your hands on my chest ever since that day? Sorry, Ig, but I do notice your rather sexual attempts, and I'm very pleased to say that I do not enjoy them at all."

He gave me an apologetic smile, and of course, I couldn't help but forgive him. Even though I really shouldn't…considering the fact he has tried several times (Unsuccessfully, may I add) to feel me up.

"So, what do you plan on doing now?" Iggy asked me, crossing his arms over his chest.

I shrugged, glancing at the black sky before me. "I guess I'm still stuck like this. I mean, it's not Dad's fault that the TRUE Ari ran off to Paris with his girlfriend, and I can't risk it for Dad to lose his job."

"You are truly the most thoughtful daughter that any father could wish to have."

"My, my, Iggy, when have you ever learned to be the sweet talker in the group?" I teased. He grinned back, his thick flop of wet strawberry-blonde hair covering his eyes.

"Well, Max," He began, and I nearly choked on my own spit. It was the first time he said my name, or in my case, the first time I ever heard that name for quite a while!

Of course, there was still Dad, who would only call me "Max" in secret or using our annoyingly wonderful habit of mouthing words to each other…

And there was Ari, who took in **MORE** fun at poking at Seventeen magazine photo shoot pictures while we talked through Skype…

And then there was my lovely Mom, who sent me an e-mail, attaching fifty photographs of herself in the pre-ordered wedding dress right after she finally hit her ideal weight of one hundred and twenty pounds. The dress was still a little tight around her waist, but she didn't need that from me.

But listening to a famous celebrity – more specifically, an idol singer – which I managed to become great friends with say my name was…a very miraculous feeling. I know, I know! I'm sounding like some crazy rabid fan-girl, but rest assured, I am not.

I will not develop into one.

_**Never!**_

"My discovery of you being a female was very accidental."

"Such formal language," I complimented. "Have you been consulting those century-old grammar books from the attic again?"

"Not quite," He replied, clearing his throat. "_AS_ I was saying, or…asking, anyway, um…do you find it uncomfortable knowing the fact that one of the guys in One Winged Angel knows your true identity as a girl?"

"Well now that you mention it…" To be honest, I wasn't uncomfortable at all. Oh, definitely not.

I was, in fact, absolutely, horrendously terrified. I mean, c'mon, if word breaks out or Iggy's mouth slips while he eats his pancakes at breakfast…I shudder to think about the consequences! Why am I even thinking about the possible future in the first place? Damn, I hate my brain.

First, Dad could lose his job. Well, he could have lost it right now, since the Prez _WAS_ the first one that figured out I was a girl. If she wanted to kick me out, she could have done that the night of our "date" (It still brings back terrible, terrible memories to my mind.)

Second…I don't have any ideas yet…second…Fang, Gazzy or Iggy are guys, therefore, they are not that great at keeping secrets and will let lose my true identity at parties!

I've seen how they act under the influence of alcohol. Fang starts stripping and hops onto the closest pool table to wave his shirt around, Iggy tries (Unsuccessfully) to make his voice sound alluring to the closest mammal available with breasts and long legs and Gazzy? Let's just say that the picture is NOT pretty.

Third…I could undergo all of the hatred when I first performed with One Winged Angel. The whole spotlight incident with Fang…only this…is ten thousand times worst. The hate could get ten thousand times worst; more Fanfictions, more anti-fan groups, more mobs patrolling CME Entertainment with bags of rotten fruit in their hands ready to pelt at me…but truthfully, I really don't care about that at all.

The last possible consequence, however, affected me the most.

Fourth…was the dramatic effect it could have on my family. The sign of seeing my family having to suffer because of me and my carelessness…I hated it. I hated it all.

"I pronounce that your uncalled silence is a sign of telling me that you are absolutely frightened about the idea." He said, almost tenderly.

Oh, my God, why am I crying? Well, not necessarily "crying", but my eyes are turning very watery. Oh, my God, I'm such a girl. Hang on, I am a girl.

But **STILL**!

Several tears already started to make their way down my cheeks, but it's all good, I tell myself, it's all good.

"Max," He said finally, after slight sniffling seemed to alarm him. "It's going to be alright."

"How do you know everything is going to turn out alright, huh?" I replied bitterly, and all the feelings and the moments of dread I have felt ever since Iggy's discovery of me being a female all poured out.

"As much as I enjoy being in a male idol group, I am constantly living in a whirlwind. I enjoy the fact that I can play piano again, I enjoy performing and singing to hoards of fan girls, I love becoming friends with all of you…" My voice trailed off, and I tucked my knees into my chest protectively.

"But you see Iggy, I can't just trust anybody. I don't know what tomorrow will bring. What will happen if you accidentally let slip that I'm a girl at a radio show? What will happen if you say that 'Oh, Ari actually has a stash of bloody tampons found in her closet' at an interview? Are you going to be the bearer of my consequences?"

"Not only will I be in a mountainous pile of trouble," I continued. "One Winged Angel is also going to fall because of this. I can't risk that. You guys worked hard to get to where you are today in the American music industry, and because of a single nobody, you crash right back down, and this time, it'll be twice as hard to get back up."

Suddenly, Iggy gripped my arms tightly. I stared at him, eyes widening in shock. His own turquoise-blue eyes flashed in rage, as if he completely disagreed with what I had to say. "First of all, Max, you are not a pathetic nobody. My God, don't you know what you are to all of us? You are…just out of this world. You're a whack."

"Oh, gee, thanks. Is that supposed to make me feel any better?" I mumbled.

"Yes, of course!" He replied, exasperated. "Look. It's complete fate that your lame git of a brother left this opportunity of a lifetime, leaving you to fill his shoes. You're the one who supplied One Winged Angel with vocals while Fang is still undergoing therapy for his vocal chords."

"You enrich our songs with your talents on the piano; you don't take our crap and at times, do act like our mothers." At that, I had to smile faintly.

"I may not know what tomorrow is going to bring, Max," He said, continuing on with his speech. "But I know one thing; you're going to be sticking around for a while before anybody will discover that you are a girl."

I had never seen Iggy – the calm, collected, and poised and _ (Please select any adjective of your choice that describes someone as peaceful) Iggy – act so…confident and cool.

Confidence was a good thing though, so I'm not complaining.

"And how are you going to do that?" I was comforted by a considerable amount, but I was confused. How on Earth will he help me?

"By making a promise to you, Max. I promise that I'm going to protect you from now on, keeping your secret identity of a girl unknown to the rest of the guys." He raised his right hand and extended his fifth finger.

"Will you, actually?" I asked, incredulous.

"Don't be ridiculous. All of us enjoy your company." He said, promise sealing his voice. I had to take the bargain. Whether or not Iggy gave me a pinkie promise, I had to admit, he is one of the most compassionate and wonderful kids a girl could ever ask for.

"And stop crying! You're such an idiot," He said cheerily, wiping my tears away with his finger.

"I am NOT an idiot," I retorted, smiling and pushing his hand away. Instead, he just raised his hand to brush my side bangs away from my eyes.

Suddenly, though, without any warning, his eyes seemed to give off intensity twice as shocking as being zapped by a Tazer (Not that I have been…anyway). "What are you doing?" I asked, still smiling like a retard.

In fact, however, he didn't reply me. All he did was place two hands between my cheeks, and without any warning at all…

Oh. My. Fucking. God. Times. Two.

He…fucking kissed me?

_**Fuck**_, why am I dropping so many F-Bombs? _**Fu-**_…

Okay, I'll replace it. Crap.

And it was just a very simplistic kiss too; nothing from a fairy tale (Unless you count the whole mini-crying session and then kissing me as one). And his lips were very…cracked and dry.

My _SECOND_ kiss…am I supposed to rate it? There was no sensation of butterflies erupting in my stomach…just…plain awkwardness.

Okay, no, if I said there was no attraction or chemistry there, I would have been lying. I mean, who wouldn't want a strawberry-blonde (Famous) cutie kissing you right here, right now, who is also considered a heartthrob to most of North America?

But for now, all I could do was try my best not to feel nauseous in front of the guy who I've become best buddies with. I couldn't kiss him back. I just can't bring myself to kiss him, as much as I feel like I am "obliged to" return the kiss before I hurt the poor fellow's ego.

Luckily (Probably unluckily), somebody came in to intrude on us. The pros to this surprising guest? The kiss only lasted less than three seconds. The cons? He was probably going to wonder why two guys are kissing underneath the moonlight. _**Suh-weet.**_

"What the hell are you guys doing?" A voice interrupted. My whole body froze in shock. As the two of us looked behind from the rocking garden swing, the blood in my body ran chillingly cold.

And yes, you guessed it, there he was. The ignorant Fang, leaning against the doorframe, a slightly cold demeanour set in his posture.

I would've been fine with Gazzy or Dad walking in on us, but with Fang…uh-oh. Trouble's brewing if you ask me…

* * *

_**(Iggy's Point of View)**_

"You're such an idiot!" It wasn't a comforting sight to see Max cry, but I managed to put a smile on her face anyway.

You know, this whole misidentification as a girl thing really didn't come as a surprise towards me. I mean, now that I truly look at her, you can see how her hair – still boyish, playful and in all that chocolate-y brown glory – drapes perfectly over one of her eyes.

Even though her personality may come out as a tomboy (And she really impersonates her brother well), she is truly a girl at heart. No one can deny that. And she was truly gorgeous and lovely, inside and outside. I could literally feel my heart do a little pit-pat while I continued to stare at her.

"I am NOT an idiot!" She exclaimed furiously while I tried unsuccessfully to thumb away her tears. How can a girl be so beautiful when she's THIS upset? There's something wrong with me inside…

I raised my hand again to brush her bangs out of her eyes. Her eyes glinted brightly against the soft streetlights, casting an eerily soft glow in the surrounding area.

Why does everything seem so perfect for a first kiss? Here, we have the secluded surroundings, the person that can make your heart do back-flips. Yeah, I know, I know; I'm a mushy-gushy, icky-yicky hopeless romantic. What can I say? Sappy romantic movies get the best of me, and I think I'm in the scene of one right now.

Is this what I really want to do?

With the girl that has taken so much time and effort to help me with one of the biggest decisions in my life for the past few weeks? The girl who has taken care of me so well…to the point that I have developed feelings for her?

Yes.

…

_Yes._

I quickly placed my hands over her cheeks, and heart thumping erratically, I pressed my lips against hers. Dang it, I knew I should've worn some chap stick beforehand!

And before I knew it, that kiss was long over. Max backed away at the sound of a husky, raspy voice from the open patio door, her eyes gleaming, extremely frightened at the intruder.

I hissed slightly, but as soon as I realized who it was, I closed my mouth and wiped my lips with the back of my sleeve. "Max…" I tried to whisper, but it was no use. She was staring, completely in a daze. My voice was inaudible and useless, but Fang's presence was powerfully influential. With him just standing there, it could make any woman stand, completely erect.

And make an irritable Iggy even more irritable.

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

"God, it's no use," I said to myself disappointedly. No matter how many times I watched Megan Fox talk, laugh or make out with Shia LeBeouf (That lucky bastard) on YouTube, she didn't hold a thousand times the attraction Ari held for me.

Wait – did I honestly just say that Megan Fox is not as attractive as ARI? Oh, fuck this, there was honestly something wrong with me now.

It has been approximately two post-surgery weeks for Iggy. Yet, it has been two extremely depressing and horribly sad two weeks for me. Yes, I was officially "depressed".

Ari has been bustling around the house, taking care of him. I mean, I'm a guy, so I shouldn't be considered the jealous type. I mean, I shouldn't be! In fact, I'm **STRAIGHT**. I shouldn't even BE jealous of another guy WITH another guy!

But firstly, there was the close proximity and the laughter that can be heard from Iggy's bedroom when Ari helps Iggy with his steroid eye drops (One day, I'm just going to storm in there and take care of the job myself), and secondly, there was the close proximity that the two had when Iggy was giving verbal instructions to Ari about how to cook a cheese omelette in the kitchen.

And thirdly, there was the close proximity that the two had when they were up on the patio deck, examining the stupid busty and bosomy joggers that took their dogs out for a run daily. I mean, c'mon!

Okay, fine. Pretty much _EVERYTHING_ involving close proximity would get me all heated up. God, I had to stop. If word broke out that I was gay…I shivered as memories of that Justin Bieber article popped up in my brain. It was either: A) Confessing to myself that I truly was in love with Ari or B) Lose more face for "lying that I was not homosexual and that Justin Bieber and I really did have a thing for one another."

Instead, I closed the computer without waiting to shut it down properly and flung my sketchpad onto my bed. Maybe I just needed a quick breather…

"EW!" I shrieked loudly as my door burst open to two sugar-high men, with sticky and melting chocolate running down their chins.

"What is UP with you guys? Trust me; inducing yourself on sugar is no way to get women. You guys are like…drunk on chocolate." I said distastefully as I waved Gazzy away.

"We're getting ourselves **DRUNK ON CHOCOLATE**!" He yelled boisterously, high-fiving Manager Jeb in the process. "We just ate five tubs of rocky road ice-cream, and we're getting to the sixth one!

"I thought you guys were having a Glee karaoke marathon." I muttered, hoping that they didn't put their fingers on the pricy stereo downstairs.

"Of course, of course, but then Dianna Agron just got too boring! So now, we're getting…" Gazzy started to giggle hysterically at the infamous phrase.

"Drunk on chocolate, I know." I said, rolling my eyes.

"Ask the rest of them to join us! It would be so much more fun to have a chocolate party with the company of six!" Rest assured, people: I am unperturbed by the essence of chocolate in the house because I absolutely hate sweets.

Except for the occasional Nutella swipe on a piece of warm, crunchy toast…

But more about that another time…

Putting my hands in my pockets, I hurried towards the open door to the patio, where a draft was finding itself into the warm house.

It was also then I noticed two things.

Iggy was standing so close to Ari it could have made me hurl out dinner from tonight. And possibly all the dinners from yesterday and the day before yesterday…

And…and…and…_**WHAT THE FREAKING HELL**_! Did Iggy just plant a big smack on Ari's own lips? He…who…what…WHY…JUST…WHAT THE CRAP IS THIS…Okay Fang, remain calm…and stay cool…

The scene was just too shockingly scandalous for my own brain to handle. I quickly cleared my throat and yelled at them before things could get too serious and the kiss would have erupted to a make-out session.

"What the hell are guys doing?" Thank goodness that kiss only occurred for three seconds. Yes, I was mentally counting in my brain and _NO_, I am _NOT_ a freak.

On the other hand, consider me a freak or not, I don't care. All that matters to me now are how Iggy doesn't have his hands groped on Ari's cheeks and isn't kissing him anymore.

Oh, my God, yes, I am a freak. I'm a freak for counting how many seconds Ari and Iggy kissed, and I'm an even bigger freak for confessing I truly do…have an attraction for Ari.

Time to put my back-up plan to work. It's not going to be pretty, and I'm going to feel like the worst asshole in the world for doing this but…it's the best I can do…to save my face…

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

"Fang!" I squealed, my voice raising several pitches higher than usual. "What are you doing here?" I asked after a great deal of clearing my voice.

"Well…" He began slowly, eyeing me suspiciously. Gosh, I hope he didn't hear anything! Or see anything, for that matter!

"Manager Jeb and Gazzy just finished with their karaoke session and are pigging out on six tubs of rocky road ice-cream downstairs in the kitchen. You guys coming…or…?"

I nodded my head vigorously, and he seemed unperturbed by my enthusiasm. "Great. See you downstairs." In a quick, swift movement, he slipped out in a flash.

I hurried after him, but not long after Iggy grasped a fistful of my shirt and dragged me back. "What?" I snapped loudly, and I regretted it right after the bitterness came out of my mouth.

His turquoise-blue eyes, along with his lips, frowned and drooped sadly. "Oh, Iggy…" I bit my lip. "I'm so sorry…"

"No, it's not your fault. I should be the one saying sorry…I shouldn't have kissed you just now. I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing…" He started averting his gaze to look at anything OTHER than me. I mean, I'm not complaining but it is so not normal to see a guy staring at his own crotch instead of…a live human being.

"But anyways," I said, trying to change the subject. "Thank-you very much for protecting my identity from the rest of the guys; you don't know how much this means to me." I added as earnestly as I could.

He continued to stare at his crotch while he expressed his thanks. Did I hurt the poor guy that badly because I didn't kiss him back?

Nah…

Instead, I gave a hearty wave and disappeared downstairs into the kitchen, leaving Iggy, standing alone in the dark silence.

* * *

For the next few days, however, I couldn't treat each and every day normally. For example, I was acting super paranoid around Iggy. I refused to let him be alone with just Gazzy/Fang or Gazzy and Fang all together.

Call me paranoid to the max, but I highly believe Fang saw…well…you know, that kiss between Iggy and I! Not only has he been acting cooler towards me (Big surprise there, hardi-har-har), he's been avoiding any sort of eye contact with me.

Great. I'm so happy to tell my mother in my next e-mail that my love life is in a huge mess because the young man I've fallen in love with is an ignorant PMS-ing bitch and is a cold and frozen bitter lemon fruit juice bar. Come on, you've got to love my metaphor.

So here I am, on a fine and warm sunny day, sweeping up dust bunnies from underneath the oven and at the same time, sneezing my guts out every fifteen seconds. I should have better things to do other than sweep, but unfortunately, "sweeping is a legitimate source of exercise that can help you burn fat." I quote this from Fang, not from anyone else. Gr, that asshole. He's been acting like such a little brat towards me now…I have no idea why.

**PFT**! And as IF I have any fat! Okay fine, maybe a little, but not a whole lot!

Suddenly, Dad strode into the kitchen, speaking loudly on his Blackberry. "Alright, thank-you very much, Leslie! I'll tell the boys straight away; they'll be so pleased to see the girls again, especially Fang! He was the one who personally requested this in the first place."

That one single word starting with the letter "G" had piqued my interest, and the asshole's name. Girls that "Fang was especially pleased to see" meant mammals with large double D breasts, twenty-four inch size waists (Something I do not have, and am glad I do not covet), hips and long legs.

Basically, I'm deeming Fang a pervert. Total score for me!

But at the same time, there's this rage building up in the pit of my stomach so furiously that I swept all of the dust bunnies in one go. Obviously, it didn't end up so well because I started sneezing my guts out twice as intensely. Word of advice: Sweep with love and care. Do not sweep when overly jealous or anxious.

NO. **NOT JEALOUS**. I AM MERELY "CURIOUS, ANXIOUS AND RESTLESS."

Dad got off the Blackberry afterwards, and I stood up while brushing off dust from my "cleaning apron". (A wonderful two dollar present from the dear Saint of Fang himself).

"What's up, Dad? I've never seen you more excited…except for the time I caught you and the Prez sexting, of course. How'd it go?" I asked casually while he was eating grapes.

The grapes ended up going down the wrong way, of course. I mean, what father would want his own daughter to educate him on "sexting"? He started to choke. And he recovered, don't worry! I'm just that single daughter in the world who is willing to poke embarrassing moments at her father. Yup, that's me, all right!

"We were NOT sexting," He emphasized every word. Clearly, he wanted to get his point out. "We were just having an electronic conversation via the stipulation of phones!"

"Wowee, the world of electronic conversations sounds truly remarkable." I remarked sarcastically. "But really, what's the big news? Who are the girls that – cough, cough, the asshole – is so anxious to see?"

"You mean, you don't know?" Dad asked incredulously as he set the Blackberry down on the counter.

I shrugged. "Not one bit. Shoot, please."

"Obviously, it's the girls of 4EvAir!"

My eyes widened in horror. "Don't tell me…"

Dad nodded, obviously mistaking my look of grim for a look of pure adoration. "Pretty, darling Lissa and the rest of them…oh, yeah! You've never met the rest of the girls before!"

I snorted as I started picking out burnt crumbs from the stove, looking suspiciously like the burnt skin of the tuna fish casserole we had last night for dinner. "Come on, Dad, you've got to be freaking kidding me. Lissa? Gorgeous? And I thought your brain had been fried into a pancake when you showed total love for the Prez…"

"Lissa is a talented woman, and you should do well to look up to her." Dad said sternly. Oh, my God. His brain hasn't just been fried; it was also chopped up into tiny slivers. "She has been in the American music industry for a much longer period of time than you, and she has had extensive training at her mother's record label."

"Simply put, she bought her way into the group," I muttered. "Why are we going to see them anyway?"

"Well, Fang has been composing some new songs, hasn't he?" Dad asked. I just shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't talked to him for a while; he's been so pissed off lately, I don't want to tread on his tail even more."

Dad started to look thoughtful. "Hmm, funny…he was the one who actually proposed the idea of…"

"Of what?"

"Of a and One Winged Angel performance, set to be televised in around a month, and he personally requested for Lissa to be his partner too…I knew that boy had good taste in women…"

"_**PARDON ME**_?" I shrieked.

* * *

Unfortunately, it was true. No matter how many times I yelled at Dad, and no matter how many times my jaw had dropped (Or my eyes widened to the size of dinner plates), the leaders of the two hottest girl and boy bands of the decade "so far" (According to People Magazine) were going to be "reunited at last".

Reunited at last…ABSOLUTELY VILE AND PATHETIC. REUNITED MY ASS. It's like I'm sucked into this fantasy of a deformed story of Romeo and Juliet, with a disgustingly-innocent and "gorgeous" Juliet and a perfect-haired but sulky and non-love sick Romeo! (There are so many more adjectives to use…but…meh, he doesn't deserve it right now).

Well, I have to say that it beats wiping the microwave clean of a suspicious green piece of mould growing in the microwave.

Here we are, in the cramped little van once again, driving towards L.A. Muzik, the record label that Lissa's mother owns. "What a spoiled little brat." I commented under my breath for the umpteenth time.

"Oh, my God, Ari, would you just keep quiet? I can't focus on the ingredients to make Buster Clusters if you keep on mumbling under your breath about how terrible Lissa is!" Gazzy complained angrily, pulling out his ear buds.

"Sorry, Gazzy, but Lissa is just _**that **_terrible." I shot back.

"On the contrary," A sleepy voice emitted from the front seat, and a pang of anger shot to my heart once again. I absolutely hated, hated…no, not even hated…DETESTED it when Fang started talking about the Red-Haired Wonder like she was some saint or something. Yeowch, the anger is building up and it actually HURTS. Talk about ouch.

"I have recently discovered Lissa's capabilities through some of her performances. I may not enjoy being man-handled by her, but the girl does have a voice and can really belt out a tune if she must." He stated matter-of-factly.

I scowled under my breath. "I can hardly wait to see what talents she has to offer."

"Girls…they are such divas," I complained loudly as I perched myself onto a seat beside the window in the thirteenth floor of the company. "Such nuisances these creatures are…I mean, seriously, do neither one of them have a watch?"

"You're one to talk," Iggy whispered in my ear matter-of-factly. I just blushed in response, and elbowed him painfully in the ribs.

"What's up, Ari? Iggy's getting you all flustered and bothered?" Fang asked roughly as he watched me intently, teasingly.

Immediately, my blush disappeared, replaced by narrowed, evil dagger-shooting eyes. "Oh, just shut up, Fang. I'm sure you'd be painfully disgusted with girls on the inside because we've been waiting in this stinkin' practice room for nearly half an hour."

I pointed at innocent-looking Gazzy, who was rolling around on the wooden floorboards (Picking up unnecessary bacteria at the same time), like a crazy drooling dog (Minus the drool).

"Look at the poor kid! He's losing his cookies!"

"First of all, I do not think Gazzy is losing his cookies. Why?" Fang pointed at him. "Because Gazzy doesn't have any cookies on him at the moment. Do you see any? I don't."

"It's just a figure of speech, Fang-Er-Doodle." I retorted. Why was the dude trying so hard to get him on my bad side? Just a note: His entire plan is working. It's taking so much self-control to keep me from punching him in the jaw.

"And second of all, I think Gazzy is rolling around and having his little fidget attack because he's watching the latest episode of Arthur on his iTouch. Don't blame everything on the girls. I know you, Ari, and you best be on your best behaviour for them, especially Lissa." It was as if there was a sign of warning in his voice, meaning: If you don't put your best foot forward, I will make sure to karate chop your feet off.

Oh, my God. What. The **HELL** is happening to the world? Are we in some crazy time-space continuum where we're acting like complete polar opposites?

Fang is sticking up for girls? Okay, no. I mean, of course he would, but for THAT particular girl! Seriously, pinch me to make sure I'm living in a dream and not reality, because reality doesn't seem to be functioning correctly for me right now.

Ow. Okay, never mind. I'm in reality. Reality sure hurts...

Suddenly, the door burst open. Thinking it would've been the girls, I painfully put on my best smile (Recognized more as a smirk with a tooth ache).

Okay, forget it. It's not the girls. It's not even CLOSE to a girl.

"Who are _YOU_?" I asked, a frown quickly settling upon my face. The person looked like a man, with really long, silky and shiny flaming red hair and dark-brown eyes, emphasized by the wonders of make-up.

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Ari," "He" said with a smile, extending his extraordinarily long fingers (And mauve-tipped fingernails? The dude is seriously scaring the crap out of me).

Okay, firstly: Generally speaking, men do not condition, especially deep condition (Unless you are the dark-haired idiot who DOES deep condition every single weekend to keep his status quo of "perfect hair".)

Secondly, I do not think men enjoy the pleasures of having their cuticles pushed deeper into the nail bed. I also do not think men like sitting in chemical-scented rooms for two hours waiting for the manicurist to stick plastic jewels onto nails.

And thirdly, I do not think men actually enjoy wearing thigh-high mini-dresses and showing excruciatingly disgusting cellulite on thighs. This he is actually…a…she. Oh, dear, I'm so sorry for mistaking a woman for a man because of the excessive amount of peach fuss growing above her top lip.

"Uh…hi…who are you?" I asked again, barely touching the tips of her fingers.

"Duh, she's the President of L.A. Muzik! Also known as…Lissa Gorgorvitch's mother!" Iggy whispered frantically beside me, shivering slightly at the "close proximity" I had with her.

Oh…kay? This is the part where I understand that genes really do affect the offspring of children. Oh, Biology, you have never failed to amuse me. This is also the part where I realize that the Lissa's mother's husband was the good-looking one, yet only a few of his genes managed to affect his daughter. How sad.

Oh, I'm so thankful for having parents who were cursed with golden looks but had to separate (Okay, fine, not really too hot on the separation, but hey, it wasn't a totally bad divorce that ended in scratching claws and punching dragon fists!).

"Okay, then. Hi to you, too," I said slowly, extending my arm back and quickly wiping my hand on my sleeve behind my back. "So…where are the girls exactly? I don't mean to be rude, but we've been here for thirty minutes and…nothing! No one has shown up!"

It seems to me as if Mrs. Gorgorvitch requires a hearing aid. Or maybe she's just a really good actress who likes to ignore people. AHEM, like mother, like daughter.

I can't believe I'm even saying this, but Mrs. Gorgorvitch makes the Prez look like a very sexy underwear model. No joke.

"I'm very pleased that all of you took the time to come, unfortunately, Lissa isn't going to be here today. She ate something bad last night and is currently in bed resting. She has been puking since five this morning." She said sadly.

Don't tell me…bad sushi? Rotten eggs! Expired gorilla milk! God, this day has got to be the best yet! A day that I, Maximum Ride, do not have to see the Red-Haired Wonder and hearing that she's stranded in her bedroom!

WITH a tub of bile sitting beside the foot of her bed! If you can hear my thanks, bacteria-infested food, here you go: **THANK-YOU**.

Except that Fang started to show S.O.S. S.O.S. equals signs of sorrow. Ouch, the pang of wariness on one's heart truly wounds me.

PFT. AS IF IT EVEN HURTS ME.

Okay, I'll admit…it's kind of…true…

"What's wrong, Fang? Did someone tie your hair in a knot today?" I spat bitterly. Ooh, that came out wrong.

"No, Ari," He stated, once again in that disgusting tone like he's sending me to the grocery store for more eggs. "No one can tie my hair in a knot because my hair isn't long enough for even a tiny ponytail."

Then his eyes, shining brilliantly with concern and such love (It made me putridly sick), turned towards Mrs. Gorgorvitch. "How is she feeling, Ann? Did she go to the clinic for a check-up?"

WHAT. IS. THIS. REPULSIVE. BEHAVIOUR. I'M. WITNESSING. TODAY?

No, I swear, I'm NOT the jealous type. I'm not!

It's taking all of the self-control I have to stop myself from punching the nearest thing from me. Example? Mrs. Gorgorvitch's cellulite-covered thighs.

Thank God I also don't have long nails. I mean, if I were to be a male-impersonating female, long, sharp nails are NOT going to help me. In fact, they were going to harm me even more…

Back on track here…

"She didn't even want to rest in bed today! She said that meeting and discussing with One Winged Angel was much more important to her than her health." Mrs. Gorgorvitch said in her fake, high-pitched screechy tone.

Oh. Give me a BREAK – Lissa would obviously prefer her king-sized bed to dancing in no make-up and in baggy sweats any day!

"That girl just forces to push herself to the maximum limit, doesn't she?" Fang muttered under his breath worriedly.

"Are you worried?" Gazzy asked, completely incredulously and finally breaking his gaze from his iPod Touch. "The Red-Haired Ferocious Stick Figurine? You're joking!"

Way to go, Gazzy! See, this kid never fails to put a smile on my face. It's when I stare straight ahead into Black Beetle Fang and the cycle of romantic depression starts once again.

Fang shoots a death glare (No, it's even worse than death) at Gazzy. "Now, Gazzy, I'm sure there's a plausible explanation as to why Lissa has a slimmer figure than most teenage girls at her age. Perhaps it's stress? I binge out sometimes too, but you just don't notice because we see each other every day."

Pft. And he's Mr. Charming-His-Mother-In-Law all over again.

Yeah, this is just too much charisma for my stomach to digest. Or is it…?

Oh, no.

Not today.

Mother Nature, you just HAD to visit me at this exact moment, didn't you? Curse you (And curse you, unfertilized eggs!)

"I'm headed to the washroom, if…anyone needs me," I add awkwardly at the end. Fang just stares at me with a WTF look on his face, while Mrs. Gorgorvitch waves me away.

"What's wrong?" Iggy asks with unconditional concern.

"Um, nothing. I won't take more than a second, I promise."

* * *

The sad thing is: I knew that it was going to take MORE than a second. Because I didn't bring any extra pads with me and didn't stash them into the pockets of my jeans, the only way I would be able to obtain one is to actually…

I gulp in horror as I think about it…

Either I run to the drug store four miles away from L.A. Muzik to buy a package, or I sneak into the unoccupied bathroom for females, insert a quarter into the little slot and find peace with the tampon in a secluded cubicle.

Yeah, I'll go with Option B.

Peering at both ends of the hallway, I quickly snuck in after the coast was clear. No one was going to come in, right? This is the fifteenth floor. I doubt there will be any gossipy reporters sneaking around up HERE.

Alright, so where's my quarter?

As I rummage deep into my jacket pocket for one (I'm sure I kept one in here for emergency usage), I hear female voices outside the bathroom…APPROACHING ME!

Yeah, I was totally wrong. Oh, my God.

Oh, great. And it's at THESE moments that all the cubicles are locked because they are currently "**UNDER REPAIR**".

"Psst! Quick! In here!"

A little annoying voice tells me that I shouldn't trust a voice like that, but at the same time, what else have I got to lose?

The answer? Nothing, except my dignity for going into a girls' bathroom when I supposedly should be in the males'.

I glance at the end of the line of tan-painted cubicles, and see a pair of turquoise-blue eyes staring straight at me. They look oddly familiar…where have I seen those pairs of eyes before?

"Are you in or out? I'm closing the door in…"

"Hang on!" I hiss furiously at the pair of eyes. Right on time, I slip into the cubicle and quickly stand on the toilet seat so no one can see there are TWO people in one cubicle.

Yes, very unsanitary, but…who cares? It's a high-class TOILET. I'm sure the janitor will be here to clean up every three hours, if not less.

The click-clack of high heels silences me, as well as freezes my stance on the toilet seat.

"Yeah, so like…did you see One Winged Angel on the way to the bathroom?"

"Like, totally! Fang is just too hot beyond compare…but Iggy's not looking too bad either. But I heard their manager is EXTREMELY good-looking!"

_**Mental Note**_: Tell Dad his beauty has not only attracted the Prez, but women younger than him as well. Bravo, Dad, bravo. Your manly essence is petrifyingly scary.

"Well, they're just rumours. Don't set your expectations too high. I heard that he's hooking up with CME's CEO!"

"No way! You're kidding, right? That would actually be shocking news to make the headlines of the weekly entertainment tabloid."

"Well…anyway, better get back to work. I hope I'll be able to get Fang's signature for my niece!"

The door swings open, and it quickly closes again.

And here I am, sighing with relief.

Not yet. I'm engaging in intense eye contact with a fifteen-year-old girl. "You do realize you are occupying my toilet, _**Ms**_. Ari Ride?"

…

Instantly, my blood ran cold.

What did she just say to me?

A small smirk plays coyly on her lips as her natural blonde high-lighted curls bounce against her shoulders. "You don't have to hide the fact." She states as she crosses her arms over her chest.

What angelic-looking fifteen-year-old starts plotting disastrous schemes on others! Who did she inherit her brain from! I know I'm gawking in amazement at her language (And possibly her Intelligence Quotient), and I probably look stupid…as in…really, REALLY stupid…

"You are one of the most dull-brained people I have ever encountered in my entire life. Really, look at me. What do you see?"

What do I see? What a stupid question!

I see a girl with blonde curls, tinted brown and blue eyes and a pert nose and…

Oh…my _**Gosh**_…

I clamp a hand over my mouth as I back into the corner of the cubicle, accidentally stepping into a red bucket filled with filthy water. May you rest in peace, my favourite pair of black combat boots.

"You're…"

The girl nods curtly. "That's right. You just stumbled into me, Gazzy's twin sister, Angel. And unfortunately for you, I can see through you straight away…

Miss Ride…"

* * *

**DUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUN! Yup, Max is so silly nowadays, letting her secret identity be discovered so easily. Tsk, tsk. Anyways, thank-you once again, my lovely, insanely awesome readers! I truly enjoy reading all of the wonderful feedback and reviews that I get, and they play a crucial part in helping me improve as a writer! Please continue to read and review! Wow, 163 reviews already! Haha, I'm truly touched by all of you, and I couldn't ask for anything better!**

**I hope you guys have a wonderful Spring Break (In Canada - I'm not so sure about the US though)! Enjoy the sunshine out! C: **

**Oh, and by the way, I'm sure most of you have already heard about the disaster in Japan. It's so terrible to hear about things like this, and it's so heartbreaking to read stories and see pictures of those suffering. Please give your blessings and prayers to Japan, as well as the rest of the world.**

**Luff, **

**Sam C:**

**P.S. I will update as SOON as possible! Never fret, dear readers! Sam C: will always find time to work on My Fair Lady! **


	14. Chapter 14

**Haii guys! It's Sam C: here! So, for the past few days, I have been working on Chapter 14 like wildfire, and here is my finished product! Hopefully, you guys will enjoy it! C: I would like to give off a BIG thank-you to all my lovely reviewers! Thanks to you, you guys pushed me to work on Chapter 14, and I have accomplished it in four days. Whew! Four days and a couple of late nights! Haha. C: Thanks for helping My Fair Lady reach 193 reviews! Whoa, man! We're almost close to 200! Another dream of mine ALMOST accomplished! Haha, as always, enjoy! Eep! I actually broke my record with Chapter 14 - with 23 pages! Haha.**

**Max - You are so fast.  
Sam C: - Only for this Chapter, my dear. You'll see when school starts again...  
Fang - I hate you.  
Sam C: - I have always known that, but you look ready to kill with that machete in your hand.  
Fang - Max? READ IT.  
-Max scans the Chapter-  
Max - YOU. HOW COULD YOU!  
Angel - Sammy's just trying to make the story dramatic! Aren't you, Sammy? You aren't a...FanSa supporter are you?  
Sam C: - Angel, I am ABSOLUTELY disgusted! Do NOT ever say that! EVER AGAIN!  
Iggy - So Fang gets this. And what about me? :C -Sad Face-  
Gazzy - AND ME!  
Sam C: - Uh...uh...uh...SO MANY REQUESTS! AHHH! I'M GONNA COMMIT SUICIDE!  
Nudge - This Chapter is...  
Sam C: - Amazing? I know. Thaaank-you, Nudge!  
Nudge - Whatever you say...  
Total - On with the story!**

**

* * *

**

According to Merriam-Webster's, the general definition for an angel is "a spiritual being superior to humans in power and intelligence". Yup, Gazzy's twin sister was a supernatural human, with the ability to see through me, a male-impersonating female, straight away.

Then again, the next definition brings me to the conclusion that Gazzy's twin sister, Angel (How ironic), is the harbinger of death.

Oh, for sure, Angel had an outer appearance to match that of an angel (The golden halo of blonde and brown curls and all that jazz, as well as clear baby-smooth skin, which was every acne-prone girl's dream), but what was going on inside that devious mind of hers?

Needless to say, Angel was _NOT_ someone ideal to start a **"heated conversation"** with. She could beat you down with her insanely high IQ with a snap of her fingers, and you wouldn't even know what to reply with. She was _**THAT**_ good.

For the first minute in the secluded bathroom after the girls (Maybe older women, approximately in their thirties or forties – I don't know, okay! One Winged Angel **DOES** have a large fan base!) left, all I could do was gap.

This girl – blonde, petite and small-framed – was able to knock me off my feet. And I mean, in the bad way, not the romantic way.

"Do you plan on explaining yourself? Or are you going to have me do the talking to your fellow band mates as to why I saw a male in the washroom?" Angel asked, eyeing me with amusement.

It's extremely hard …playing this twisted psychological game with Angel. I don't know what she's after.

Alright, let's think this through logically:

Number one, Angel _**DID**_ save my butt for inviting me to hide in her cubicle (Instead of having to crawl onto the bacteria-infested washroom and then slipping in with a few milliseconds left)…

But number two, now she's interrogating me with her brilliant mind, and I don't know what she's going to do! I mean, with brilliant logic and reasoning, she could turn out to be a successful crime scene investigator.

I talk like I'm talking about my own daughter…how whack is that?

It's also at this moment that I realize while having a mental discussion with myself, clever, sneaky Angel stole the opportunity and passed. Straight. Through. Me.

Meaning…while I'm still in the cubicle, she's already outside, heading towards the practice room in a quickened pace. Crap.

_**Crap, crap, crap!**_

Quickly, I bolted out of the washroom and down the carpeted hallway, where I found Angel opening the door.

If my ears are deceiving me, I swore she said, "HEY EVERYBODY! DID YOU KNOW THAT - ?"

"No, stop!" I shrieked loudly. To be honest, I didn't care much about Mother Nature's gift right now. All that mattered was that Angel was going to keep my secret, and will stay that way from now on!

In a rush to stop Angel from reaching Fang (With his arms outreached, no question about it), I could feel my jaw colliding onto the wooden floorboards, where (Thanks to my clumsiness) I was already feeling blood mixing with spit to form a mushy ball of grossness. Talk about **dis-gust-ing**.

Fortunately, though, I managed to wrap my own arms (Praise to my father for having overly-long vertebrae) around her legs and pulled her down onto the ground with me, hitting the floorboards with a loud _**BOOM**_.

"Angel!" A sweet, high soprano-pitch voice screeched. In a flash, thick pigtails of dark brown hair rushed towards us, arms extended to help Angel up and away from "that devil".

"I am **NOT**, in any way, a devil." I muttered under my breath as I (Boyishly) spat out that foul concoction from my mouth to the nearest garbage can possible. As a boy, one of the pros was that you could be as foul-mouthed, and as terrible as I wanted to be.

"How unsanitary of you," A snide, cold yet nasally voice remarked. I could recognize that voice any day. The only difference was that the voice sounded surprisingly tired and was trying hard to muster out all the venom she could spit out (In which she failed terribly). "You could have at least spewed your disgusting body fluids into a piece of tissue before discarding it?"

"Lissa, how nice of you to join us," I responded snappily, getting to my feet while brushing dust off of my shirt. "I thought you were back in your flowery bed, puking your own bile and digested remains of food out."

Now looking up, I realized how many pairs of eyes were staring at me. While I was standing in the spotlight (More like the middle), I mentally counted nine pairs of eyes staring at me, with different emotions and expressions set on each face.

Oh, boy.

"Why in the world were you tackling my sister? She could've died!" Gazzy cried, breaking the silence while comforting Angel in a protective stance.

"Good question," I responded airily. The truth was, I had to make up a very big lie, but unfortunately, my brain wasn't functioning properly at the moment. Why? To tell you honestly, I have no clue…at all.

What I was concentrating on mostly was Fang. Yep; it was stupid Fang, and his stupid arm, wrapped around stupid red-haired Lissa's stupid shoulder.

"Now Gazzy," I began slowly, placing my arms at my sides while walking towards Iggy, who was watching me incredulously. "You should know that your sister is mentally competent."

Either fortunately _OR_ unfortunately, Angel interrupted, and picked up the ball from there. "He was screaming for help from the bathroom about no toilet paper, so then I went inside to hand him a roll."

A tall, pretty African-American girl gasped in surprise, with an outfit so scandalously sexy it could put Francesca's tube top and JJ's short shorts to shame. "Angel! How could you enter the boys' bathroom?"

Angel rolled her eyes, but they were twinkling mischievously when they met my own, as if to say "Don't worry; I got your back on this one."

Don't worry? Don't worry! Of course I've got to worry! If she "got my back" before, then she wouldn't have acted so patronizingly…superior towards me!

As much as I have to admit that Angel is just so cutely adorable (Just like her twin brother), I don't know her **AT ALL**. Okay, so I'm sure the One Winged Angel guys may have had a FEW collaborations with them and exchanged several decent conversations, but the sad thing is…I haven't.

If I haven't been able to interact with somebody for more than at least a week, I can't trust them. Yes, I've got trust issues, and I am sure I'm not the only one. Hey, if you had a friend who told the whole school that you didn't make it to the bathroom on time, and had to take a dump in your pants on the first day of Grade 2, you would too.

The only exception would have to be Gazzy…but that's not the point right now.

"You know me. I'm the unexpected and the random one. I'm so reckless to the point that I would risk seeing somebody's penis and help them finish their business. I wouldn't want poor Ari here to go about with a non-wiped bottom." She replied simply. Wow. W-o-w. Even I won't have the guts to say _THAT_!

"Angel, you are disgustingly unique." The one with the pigtails commented, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Thank-you, Ella," Angel said. "As I was saying…so I came about to his stall, and was about to hand him a roll of toilet paper from underneath. Seeing the nail polish on my nails, he had a fit and started screaming, and therefore I rushed out before he could damage the door and have it fall on me."

"And from there, he noticed a strange white wispy figure quickly scuttling away from the scene of the crime." Remember that love-hate quote "Go with the flow"? It's etching into my brain, and I decided to go along with it.

"That would be you, a ghost with blonde curls and in a dove-white dress," I added.

"It suits me, doesn't it? You know…an angel looks like that." She smiled. Yeah, I can't help it. I've got to smile, otherwise my face was going to start spraying bloody spit everywhere for holding it in.

"Is that all? Gosh, Ari, you could've just asked." Gazzy sighed with relief, wrapping his arm around his adorable sister.

I don't even have the energy to argue with Gazzy that it is impossible for anybody to hear me at least thirty metres away, while they are also encased in a soundproof room.

Ah, the dynamic duo of siblings – too cute to resist!

A sharp _**AHEM**_ was heard from behind me, and I quickly walked back towards Iggy, arms across my chest, back leaning against the wooden bar and Mother Nature's gift continually rushing down.

"So, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by _**THAT**_ thing over there," Lissa said, clapping her hands. Oh, great. So now she hates me to the point that I'm not even a living, breathing, talking and eating mammal, but an inanimate object? That girl seriously has some issues with me, and I'm not going to be the one to deal with it. I hate her too. Everybody wins!

"Music Central has organized collaboration between both One Winged Angel and 4EvAir. The performance will air in about three weeks' time on Sunday evening, live, leaving us with two and a half weeks to practice. Mommy? Hand me that clipboard."

Okay, one thing that I will do is that I will always treat my mother with respect, even if I'm so annoyed to the point that I start throwing stuffed animals around my room. It surprised the hell out of me that the Red-Haired Wonder actually demanded her mother something, instead of asking her politely.

Then again, this was Lissa, who thought she was the most gorgeous thing alive. How does Mrs. Gorgorvitch put up with her daughter's diva attitude? The simplicity of the question boggles the mind…

…for even I cannot come up with an answer.

"Put a sock on your diva attitude, please. She's your mother, and she's not supposed to cater to your every need. That clipboard is at your arms' length. Go get it yourself." The dark-skinned Ella said sharply.

"I don't need your say, Ella." Lissa said nastily, emphasizing Ella's name. Woo, man. This Ella has got some guts! I approve, I approve. If I were a guy, she would be my ideal girl. I'm just putting it out there. "You are just jealous because you don't have a successful mother like mine. Your mother is a llama."

What I can't stand is how Fang is able to put up with her offensive comments! He's just standing, motionless and expressionless, while listening to that jabbering prissy idiot make a snide remark about someone's mother. How rude was that?

While Ella's cheeks turn a tinge pink, she ducks her head shamefully. Poor girl; I feel so terrible for her.

"You play too many computer games, Lissa. I think it's best that you lay off the crack for one day and chuck Sims 3 out the window while you still have a chance." Angel said while playing with her nails.

Good girl! I admire your attitude! A+ for making Lissa's face grow extremely red in the face!

"Well, anyway," She said, trying hard to ignore what Angel just said. I can tell you, whatever her strategy was, it clearly wasn't working. In fact…it looked like…

She was about to hurl again. Nice! And I even get a front seat pass for it! Double awesomeness!

"My mother has already arranged the teams into four duos, with each duet performing a song from either One Winged Angel or 4EvAir's latest album. The team are as follows…" She flips the single piece of paper (Which was blank) and clears her throat.

I'll tell you something: If you ever want to show the world you're professional and organized, you need to have at least one piece of paper with writing on it to show you made notes. So the saying goes: Don't pretend to be something you're not.

"The Gusman with Madge, performing an acoustic version of You and I, the solo track for me that appeared on last year's mini-album."

"My name isn't the Gusman, it's called the **GASMAN**. I can let gas pass at incredible speeds of one mile per second, hence my nickname. Get it right."

"And my name isn't Madge, ew! Who would want to be named Madge? It sounds like one of those names you would find, employed at a nineteen forties' factory or something. It's Nudge!"

When you put these two sentences together, it sounds like this: "And my name isn't Madman! It's called Gadge! It sounds like I can let gas pass at incredible speeds of one mile per second, hence employed at a nineteen forties' factory or something. It's Nudge, get it right!"

Gazzy and Nudge – the African-American girl – both glanced at each other, then at Lissa, and then back at each other.

"I'm sure both of you would find each other…interesting enough." Brrr! The drawling on the word "interesting" already sends shivers up my spine.

Lissa looks back on the piece of paper and, using her thick black Sharpie, makes a small tick beside a pair of names. "The next pairing is the blind kid, as well as…you…Ella."

Beside me, I could feel Iggy tense up his arm. I could only pat him gently on the shoulder to comfort him. I can totally see why he would get pissed off though: Lissa insulted him, and when you insult Iggy, it's like watching him and Fang beat each other up all over again.

But Iggy's a fine gentleman, and any gentleman isn't stupid enough to smack a girl in the face, no matter how much he wants to.

"Both of you would be singing to an acoustic remix of I'm In Love, featured on One Winged Angel's last mini-album. The next pairing…"

Oh, my goodness. Lissa's turning green! Green as in…putrid, snot green, not the lush, forest green! I bet it's my name she's going to say next; I can already count on it.

"Aaaaaaaari…" She tries her hardest to keep the bile down. Tut, tut. Didn't her mother ever teach her to let everything uncomfortable out? "And Angel, singing It Hurts, with piano accompaniment by…Aaaaaari..."

Angel shoots me a glittery smile, while all I can do is shake my head at her.

Hang on. Wait a minute.

Something doesn't feel right to me. So if it's Gazzy with Nudge, Iggy with Ella…and me with Angel…that only leaves one pairing left.

Oh, God. No. _You can't be serious_.

"This leaves Fang and I," She links arms with him while she smiles cheerfully (More like superiorly) towards the rest of us. "…rocking out to Black and White, another featured solo track by me!"

Black and White? I've heard of black and white cookies (Mmm, Oreos!), black and white socks, black and white shoes (Converses) and black and white striped sweat pants (Comfortable ADIDAS ones), but a song title?

Ick.

* * *

After the announcement of the couples, all of us got separated into different practice rooms. The thought of leaving Fang and Lissa in a secluded room together…

Ugh, the thought is just so disturbing.

I'm so pissed to the point I could use my eyes to burn holes right through Lissa's fat head.

"Come on, Ari, we have to go." A gentle tug on my shirt sends me back to reality, and as I watch miserably from afar at how Lissa has her arms around Fang, Angel pulls me into a smaller practice room, set with a piano just for me.

Once the door slams shut though, here I am with the devil herself. Nah, I should switch to using Angel. She did save my butt today, and twice for a matter of fact.

"Angel, why didn't you rat me out just now? You acted so patronizing towards me in the bathroom." I blurted out before I could stop myself. Oh, Maximum Ride, you have got to think with your brain, and react with it.

Angel just whirled around and giggled. "Maximum, you are too silly for your own good."

Another mystery to solve: "How in the world do you know my real name?" I asked suspiciously. If I'm in the presence of a stalker, I need to run. Like, _**now**_.

"Well, you might not know this, but I am, in fact, a close friend of Ari's."

WAIT A SECOND; **HOLD UP**.

"Girl, what did you just say?"

"I said – "

"I _KNOW_ what you said! I mean…" I walked towards her, and she started backing away. Dang, am I that scary? "How do you know my brother, Ari?"

"Well, your brother and I met when he was still a trainee at CME Entertainment. I was one of the first friends he met at the welcoming party for the Teen Choice Awards. He was a back-up dancer for , and I already debuted. He trusts me a lot, so he and I often Skype over the Internet."

"I know pretty much everything though; how he got his girlfriend pregnant, how he refuses to come home and asked you, dear Maximum, to impersonate him for the time being." She took a pause, her blue eyes twinkling. "He loves you a lot, you know. He feels terrible for asking his twin to do this, so he entrusted me with the job to protect you when the time came."

For a moment, I stood there stunned. The story just seemed way too…flashy for me. But then again, that would make up for the reasons as to why I haven't been able to call him up on Skype during midnight to enjoy lengthy conversations with him lately.

"And that time did come…especially today," I murmured, extremely touched by what Ari did for me. Me!

"That's right. So, I'm sorry if I came off demeaning this morning." She said, grinning bashfully, extending her arm. "No hard feelings?"

I took her hand. Hmm, smooth with no calluses. Lucky, lucky girl. "No hard feelings," I said, smiling back. "But to be honest, you are the complete polar opposite of Gazzy. No Arthur obsession…no nauseous gas passes…I'm astounded that you guys are even related in the first place."

"I get that a lot, so I'm used to it." She replied while attaching several high-tech cords into the stereo. "So, did you ever get the chance to listen to 4EvAir's album?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I can't believe how many featured solo tracks Lissa has. How many albums have you guys released?"

For some reason, Angel started to look gloomy. Well, I can totally see why. "Four albums, including two mini-albums. On every single release, however, Lissa always gets one bonus solo track. It drives everyone in the group crazy, because Lissa can't sing to save her life, and is always using auto tune to make herself sound better."

"I can't believe I finally met somebody who is on the same page as me about Lissa's horrendous singing!" I exclaimed.

Angel snorted. "You don't say…although…I don't think it's Lissas' singing that has got you so agitated right now, is it?"

I blushed, but quickly recovered. "Pft, there is no freaking way that I could ever like Fang." Yeah, I was a terrible, terrible liar, and I knew that my flimsy excuse could be overlooked by Angel's Intelligence Quotient any moment now.

Angel cocked her head to one side, looking extremely confused. "Fang? You thought I was talking about Fang?"

"Don't play stupid, Angel," I muttered. "You can already see it anyway."

"Don't worry, Max. I've heard of strange and curious things before, but there is no way that Fang will ever bring himself to like Lissa." Then for a second, she looked thoughtful. "Unless Hell freezes over, of course."

"So I've heard, so I've heard…" I said, laughing. Suddenly, an idea popped into my idea. Absolutely brilliant! "Hey Angel, do you mind singing for me?"

"Not at all!" She sounded surprised, but agreed any way. This is the only way I can help her, after making an unbreakable vow with Ari to help protect me when the time comes.

The melody of It Hurts started to play, and Angel brought the microphone close to her open mouth, ready to belt out the tune.

And there, nestled deep in my cargo jacket pocket, was my LG Cyon Ice-Cream phone. I was ready to hit record any moment.

This is for you, dear Angel.

* * *

"When I think of you…it hurts, it just hurts so much…" Her voice trailed off, along with the background music.

Remember the list of amazing singers that I once talked about? Now, I need to add Angel to the list. Her voice broke through me, and touched my soul, making me shed tears. Oh, crap, I shed tears.

That was one song that I will always remember. **Mental Note**: _Go onto Mediafire to download It Hurts tonight._

Quickly, I pressed the STOP button on my phone before Angel could listen to that annoying beep it would make after recording something. Yeah, I tried _**EVERYTHING**_ and the beep is still there.

"Oh, Max," Angel bit her bottom lip worriedly. "Are you alright?"

"That was too beautiful, Angel!" I complimented, thumbing away the last of the tears I had. "Why don't ever show your true potential with the group, though? You could be accomplishing so much more."

Angel sighed, and set the microphone down onto the floor. She walked towards the window, and crossed her arms across her chest. "I don't even know, to be honest. I guess it's because I enjoy my sisters, Ella and Nudge. I'm the person that needs company. I can't go solo. Without Ella or Nudge beside me, I can't accomplish much."

Not only was Angel beautiful with her innocent and pure image, she was lovely on the inside too. That was what made her truly special.

She whirled around at that moment and clapped her hands. "Ready to begin?"

I gave her a thumbs-up, patting the bulge in my pocket lightly to make sure my phone was still there. "Am I ever!"

* * *

The rest of the afternoon proceeded fairly productive. The song, itself, wasn't too hard to play on the piano. Just a few chords, as well as a rift for when Angel sang a specific part in the song.

I enjoyed her company, and I was sincerely glad that I was going to be able to see her again the next morning. Back in the practice/meeting room, however, it was a completely different story.

When we walked in, Ella and Iggy, as well as Gazzy and Nudge, signalled for us to hurry into the corner of the room. What surprised me though was how each and every one of them had on a pair of fluffy ear muffs on. I shot them a questioning glance, but they only shook their head.

Angel quickly walked towards them, grasping the leopard-print ear muffs and clasped them over their ears.

"Has everyone gone paranoid or something?" I asked loudly. Frankly, it wasn't them who were going crazy. It was me.

"You and I, we're black and white! You, you, you and I, we're black and white!"

**OUCH**. Oh, my _**GOD**_. What in the world was that? I swear it could potentially blast my eardrums to bits. I placed my hands over my ears while quickly running towards the group huddled in the corner.

Gazzy handed me a pair of Winnie the Pooh earmuffs. It's cranking my style but…it'll have to do.

And there was the inseparable pair, Fansa/Lang, dancing around in the center of the room. Lissa in all her quivering glory, switching from the drab sweat pants and t-shirt, to a pair of thigh-high boots and a black tube dress that looked ready to be slipped off any moment.

Oh, yeah, and I won't forget to mention Fang, singing along to Black and White, and towards the end, wrapping his arm around her waist and sticking an Oreo cookie into her mouth.

Is the audience supposed to applaud with enthusiasm, or barf with sickness?

I took the earmuffs off and rolled my eyes. "It's safe now, dudes and dudettes."

"Did you see that horrendous showing?"

"I can't believe Lissa actually wore that…not good, not good! She's going to be proclaimed a slut, not that I even care…"

Angel caught my eye, and we started to chuckle. Pretty much everybody was dissing their performance. It literally made my day.

"Well, that's it for practice today! Fang, I'll see you tomorrow morning," Lissa said, flipping her red hair and blowing him a quick kiss.

He nodded curtly and signalled for the rest of us to get our butts off the ground and follow him.

"See you tomorrow, Angel!" I said, anxious to see her again.

"Not to worry, I'll be here." She replied, giving me a quick wink.

* * *

"Pick up, pick up! C'mon, pick up, my stupid brother! How long does a girl have to wait for you?" I grumbled, drumming my fingers against the side of my hand-me-down keyboard. After I uploaded the recording of Angels' cover of It Hurts onto my turtle-slow laptop and sent it to Mrs. Gorgorvitch (Do not ask me how I managed to acquire her e-mail; I just did), I started to video call Ari. As always, it was taking him much longer than necessary to press a small button on the keyboard to accept the call.

Finally, after five minutes of constant ringing, the screen popped up to an unbearable sight: My brother was completely knocked up – Literally speaking, not metaphorically.

"What happened to you!" I asked, almost yelling to the top of my lungs.

Ari pressed an ice pack towards his swollen and bruised eye and sighed. "Nice to see you too, sis. Francesca and I bumped into one of her exes' today while exploring the Louvre. He gave me a black eye, right in front of the Mona Lisa!"

I shook my head in disgust, thinking up ways to castrate that dude. "Ari, are you alright? And…" Peering behind him, I could see an untouched and neat bed. No bits and pieces of clothing were sprawled out on the carpet floor, and the pigsty that once existed was no longer there.

What happened while Ari was Skyping with Angel?

"Uh, your sister has a question."

"Shoot. I've got all the time in the world."

Now, ladies and gentlemen: _**THAT**_ raised suspicions.

"Where in the world is Francesca? Shouldn't she be behind you, rolling around in bed or trying to squeeze into her tube top?" I asked.

Ari sighed half-heartedly, and finally poured out the entire situation. "Because I've been reuniting with Angel recently over Skype, that rose suspicions for Francesca that I had some 'unrequited love' back home."

That was absolutely pathetic. "I am so sorry to say this Ari, but your girlfriend is an over-jealous, overreacting pregnant woman. It's the hormones. I've seen it."

"Exactly, right? Ow!" For some reason, lifting the ice pack off his eye seemed extremely brutal. I clucked my tongue in sympathy. I've never seen Ari this way before…so down…so depressed…so banged up.

"So anyway, I tried explaining to her that Angel – whom, FYI, is also one of my friends that I met while I was still a trainee at CME – was just one of my good friends, whom I've also left the task of taking care of you in case you got into any mischief."

"Since when do you talk so maturely?" I asked demandingly.

"Since I realized that Francesca decided to leave me because 'I was not financially able to support her' while her ex owns a Porsche." He explained simply, applying more ice onto his eye.

"Okaaay, then…" I leaned against the back of my office chair and sighed. Not only did I have love issues with Fang, I also had to worry about my twin brother. His problems were my problems. He got my back by asking Angel to be my "Guardian Angel" (Heh heh, no pun intended, I swear) whenever I ran into situations completely out of my control, now I have to have his…no matter how much I had warned him about shifty-looking models…

"What do you plan on doing about it?"

Ari only shot me a look. A distasteful one for that matter. "What do you mean, what do I plan on doing about it?"

"Well, look at your state. Look at **YOU**. You're a mess. But the important thing is to get yourself together. What's your next move?"

Ari started to look thoughtful. For some reason, however, I didn't seem to enjoy the look he had when his eyes started to light up.

"I should come back to Los Angeles."

I should like his idea, shouldn't I? I mean, I've been whining to him constantly about how I'm fulfilling his duty as Ari Ride in One Winged Angel, and how I hate doing it for him…

But now, when he openly requests to return to where he should have been in the first place, it isn't relief and happiness that fills me up: It's dread and sadness that I'm currently feeling.

* * *

After my little talk with Ari, I couldn't fall asleep for hours. Even though he went on about how coming back to Los Angeles would show Francesca and her ex that _**HE**_ was the one who was fully able to support her, I barely said a word.

If Ari did come back to Los Angeles, that means I'm packing up my bags and going back to Washington to prep for my mother's wedding – something I'm not totally thrilled about.

Ari would be able to debut officially as the real Ari Ride, and will be able to form good relationships with the rest of the guys.

There's something that I'm feeling, and I don't even comprehend it. Something makes me want to stay here, stay with the guys and do guy things. Y'know, like spit out phlegm (Okay, not really), wear clothes that don't hug onto my curves that tightly and just be…me.

Is it the friendships that I have formed with One Winged Angel? Is it Dad that I'm worried about? Or is it the Beetle-Eyed Bastard whom I'm not willing to forget and leave behind?

* * *

And so, that's exactly how two weeks and a half have swiftly gone by.

All the way through practicing the chords of It Hurts on the electronic keyboard in the villa practice room, learning the basis of harmonization with Angel and her soprano-tone voice to watching Lissa gain weight by eating seven Oreo cookies PER practice with Fang's arm on her hip and forcing Ari to delay his return to Los Angeles, I have to say that it has been a very, very eventful two weeks.

Performance Day is in approximately three days, so we're taking all of the time we currently have to perfect our pieces.

"You know what, Ella's actually a really awesome girl," Iggy commented out of nowhere while we were driving back home. "I thought she was always a bookworm, you know, the quiet type 'cause she rarely said a word. But now I realized that not only does she have impeccable fashion sense, she takes great care to those around her. She'd make a pretty awesome mom…"

"Is she now?" I asked, completely immersed in my fingernails, rather than him. "I've never even had a proper conversation with her before, so I wouldn't know."

"How do you like my twin sister?" Gazzy asked, while his fingers were working magic on Tap Tap Revenge 3.

"She's pretty cool. I like her a lot. Smart. High IQ. Pretty and sweet, adorable, goddess-like. A very, very kind kid with a sassy personality." If I had known from the start that Angel knew Ari, I would've supported Argel straight away, no questions asked.

"Looks like somebody is infatuated!" Iggy sing-sang teasingly, nudging me painfully in the ribs.

"Oh, well, I highly approve. See, Ari here," Gazzy proceeds to wrap his arm around me while letting out a small 'pft' from his butt. "He's the first person I would set on a blind date with my sister with."

_**WHAT?**_ While eating an Oreo, I managed to choke on it. Fortunately, I managed to cough it out before the piece of cookie could travel down any farther.

From the rear view mirror, I could see Fang give off a small smirk, as if he wanted Angel to be with me. Or maybe it's because he was close to witnessing my death. That would've been hilarious for him. "What's the matter, Fang? Witness something amusing?"

Ever since he and Lissa were spending seven hours a day with each other, I couldn't deal with two things from him.

One: The awful stench that he emitted after every practice session. I mean, what the hell were they doing in there? Was she climbing **ALL** over him or something so she could transfer her scent onto his body? Whatever the smell is, it's absolutely dreadful.

Two: The Oreo cookie crumbs that seem to linger on Fang's hands, arms as well as lips…and many other parts on his body. Either Fang is a very messy eater, or Explanation X – I cannot comprehend why Fang has crumbs embedded deep into his fingernails…as well as some found in his hair…

It's all this and more, but I wouldn't want to list them ALL out. I wouldn't want to bore you all to death. So, since then, as much as I am still attracted towards him, I can't help but avoid him.

Fang coughed to stifle a snigger. I'm sure Dad did too. My face looked hilarious while choking on a cookie. "Obviously not, Ari. Why would I enjoy witnessing a member of my band dying?"

I rolled my eyes and sank back into the cushion of my seat, hoping for the performance to come and go swiftly, without trouble.

* * *

As it turns out, time passes by much more quickly than I ever imagined it to be.

"Hold still! Otherwise, your face is going to look awkward." My stylist, Catherine, urged. I rolled my eyes at her.

"Cat, I'm naturally an awkward person. Even if I do plastic surgery on my face, have enhancements done and cover myself in the most expensive make-up possible, I will still give off the awkward image." I explained tiredly.

Cat just ignores me. Yeah, perfect. You know you're off to a good day when your stylist disregards the satirical comments you make under your breath.

A slight pat on the shoulder jerks me back to reality. From the mirror, I could see it was Iggy, looking absolutely stunning in that glimmering white tuxedo and showing brilliant white teeth.

"Colgate's Whitening Strips?" I said, almost disbelieving. "You sure put yourself in preparation to wow a crowd."

"Iggy, are you ready?" Ella called from a far. She came sauntering beside him, clutching his arm. Dressed in a similar outfit to Iggy, but she was in a knee-high dress, with high heels. Okay, I'll admit: It's moments like these that I want to be a girl again…

**OKAY, THAT'S ENOUGH REFLECTING TIME.**

"Hey Ella!" I greeted. "Man, the two of you look fit for a wedding party, rather than a performance."

Ella blushed, the colour pink creeping onto her cheeks. Aw, man. Ella and Iggy are just too damn adorable!

"I'll be there in a second, Ella. I just need to talk to Ari for a second." Ella nodded, completely understanding and stalked off to find Nudge instead.

"Are you nervous?" He asked.

To tell you the truth, I was completely petrified. I mean, I performed many times before and have gotten the whole gist of it. But this time, I wasn't performing with four people, and I didn't have three voices as my back-ups.

It was me, Angel, two microphones and one piano. That was horribly terrifying.

Instead of worrying Iggy, I just forced a smile on my face to reassure him. God, I just love that kid. "I'm completely fine, Iggy!" I quickly glanced at the clock on the wall. "What time does the performance start again?"

"At…" Iggy was about to speak, until some rowdy old lady with fading grey hair and dark circles under her eyes yelled angrily at him for "not getting ready to go on stage with Ella."

"Looks like I gotta run! I'll talk to you later! Wish me luck!" With a quick wave, he disappeared out the door, leaving me in the dressing room, alone with Cat.

Cat applied the last streak of eyeliner onto my eyes and gave me a quick, one-armed hug. Not knowing how to respond, I just patted her arm gently.

"Gosh, you are awkward." She commented disgustedly.

"See? I didn't lie to you."

Instead of doing a few last minute vocal warm-ups, I sank down onto the leather sofa to watch the live recording of Ella and Iggy's performance on the plasma-screen television.

* * *

_**(Iggy's Point of View)**_

"Shall we go?" I said, shooting Ella a smile. God damn, with her dark brown hair curled and tied into a side ponytail, there was no question that Ella was one foxy mama.

Please excuse my language there.

Once we got onto stage, I straightened my posture, as did Ella. I took her hand in mine while the two of us walked to the center of the stage, with the spotlight set on both of us.

While I got myself seated behind the drum kit, Ella smoothed out her dress before sitting down onto the stool beside me and picked up the guitar, perched upright on a stand.

"1, 2, 3, 4…" Her voice was barely audible, but my ears perked up right away as her fingers manoeuvred their way through the first few notes of the piece. Now, my only job was to harmonize with her throughout the second verse and from there on, along with keeping a steady beat on the drum kit.

"Actually…after our first meeting, saying I like you…was something that became so hard for me to say…" She sang clearly, her voice as crisp as the fresh fall of leaves during autumn.

"If I didn't contact you first, I was afraid of missing you. I'd type a text, hesitate and delete it, over and over again…" Keeping a steady beat on the drum kit was easy enough for me, so I was able to spend this time to observe Ella intently.

Unfortunately, though, the Ella that I was watching had vanished, transforming into the one ideal girl for me: Max. The Max with flowing, long hair, in that same white dress, was strumming away to the guitar. The scene is truly glamorous…

A good kick in the ankle (Done by Ella and her four inch high heels) forced me back to reality, where I realized the harmonization was going to happen any moment now.

"If my love gets deeper, then it will only result in getting hurt. It's so true that my fears are filling my mind. I've been praying with all my heart…that the person I'm yearning for…"

Ella looked into my eyes, and I, in return, could see deep in hers. For some reason, my drum stick started to slip from my grasp. Why would that be? I turned away bashfully while I sung the next line with her.

"I believe that person is you."

* * *

"I'll fall in love. I'll never feel any more fear, as long as I'm with you…the world is so beautiful. And you are…so beautiful…" The last of the strumming died away, and not realizing it, I had been staring at Ella for the past few minutes of my life.

Ella stood up abruptly, and she was already bowing while I was just replacing the drum sticks back onto the kit. "Great job, Ella," I murmured through smiles.

"I could say the same about you. For someone who hasn't had much singing expertise, you did fairly well." Ella replied, taking my hand gently and pulling me away from the roaring crowd below.

Back in the dressing room, however, I whipped my hand away from Ella's as soon as I spotted Max, who was seen drinking water and watching Gazzy and Nudge prepare for their act.

"Hey, dude!" I greeted enthusiastically, ignoring Ella completely. I slapped Max's shoulder, and in return, she gave me a grin.

"Great job, man," She complimented. Then, Max's voice dropped down to nothing more than a whisper. "Dude, you should've seen the look on your face. You looked struck."

I cocked my head to one side, letting my bangs flip. "Uh – what?"

Max raised up her fingers. "You looked dumbstruck, awestruck and love-struck. She seems to be your four leaf clover, so the lyrics in the song state."

I scoffed. "There is NO such word as love-struck."

She shrugged, but a coy smile on her face brought uneasiness to me. What in the world was going through her mind? "Maybe, but from what I could observe from the dressing room television, you were falling head over heels for Ella on stage."

Wh-aaat?

Ella and Iggy? Iggy and Ella? Ella and I? Me and Ella? Ella plus me? Me plus Ella?

Nah…

* * *

_**(Gazzy's Point of View)**_

"You better not pass gas while performing, Gazzy. Otherwise, I'm going to send you my hospital bill for making me faint in public with your nauseous gasses." Nudge spat viciously.

"Don't you worry," I reassured her in a bitter tone. "I went out to eat the Mexican Buffet for dinner last night. I've got enough gas to pass until next Sunday."

Why, in the world, did Lissa have to pair me up with Nudge? Of all the people in 4EvAir, I would've rather be paired up with my TWIN sister, rather than Nudge!

Nudge has longer and much more toned legs than me, so in three-inch heels; she could saunter towards the microphones and the acoustic guitars much faster than me.

"Can't you wait for me?" I asked, after literally jogging to keep up with her speed.

"If I had to wait for you, then you would lose **ALL** your dignity and respect. For a girl to wait for a guy, that's just sad." Nudge explained.

Nudge and I haven't been on exactly "good terms" after being paired up. For one, she doesn't share my passion for Arthur. I mean, how, exactly, could you HATE the aardvark in the first place?

Second, she thinks that because I pass gas, I must be inflicted with some kind of disorder. It's just what I do, alright? If she can't stand it, then she might as well stand ten metres away from me.

And to add, she doesn't put one hundred and ten percent into her practice sessions! Okay, I'm exaggerating, but you know what I mean. You know the type of person who is…I don't know…lazy, and would rather watch Gossip Girl or What Not to Wear, other than practice.

I pick up the guitar and rest it on my lap. Nudge does the same, but instead of counting out loud like Ella did for I'm In Love, she starts nodding to the invisible beat of the slow ballad, later tapping against the body of the acoustic guitar.

Surprised, I follow her lead after two bars of beats. Fingers, work your magic on the fret board!

"No matter what happens, even when the sky's falling down…I promise you…"

Oh, my God. Nudge, please, please, please…don't look at me, don't look at me, don't look at me, don't look at me…

The narration is the _WORST_ part in the entire song! It's so cheesy! Okay, I LOVE cheese, but this is just too much calcium for my own good!

"That I will never let you go..." In all due respect, I had to look up because my eyes were feeling bored for looking at that stupid fret board, and I had to watch something that was alive and moving. No, not the crowd: It was too dark to see them anyway!

Yep: I had to look at Nudge, and she was looking at me intently.

Uh, oh…meaning…literal uh oh, uh oh…I…

What I see now sitting right beside me is someone gorgeous; not the sweatpants t-shirt girl I always quarrelled with back at L.A. Muzik.

"You, even when I fall, you help me up without shaking one bit with an unfaltering gaze. And you, during those hard times…and until the end…you held both my hands and stayed with me."

Curses – I feel a blush creeping up onto my cheeks like a spider.

_Flashback _

"_Can't you do anything right?" Nudge hurled a fluffy pillow at Gazzy in the face. _

"_If you gave me the chance to try, then maybe I can get it right! You always stop me at this section in the entire piece of the song, so how can I proceed?" He shot back, dodging the pillow with ease._

"_Stop being so ignorant!" Cheese sticks were now being hurled into the air. Nothing was going to ease the simple quarrel that had snowballed and would potentially end up in a dramatic fist fight. _

"_You're the one who's being ignorant!"_

"_Pig!" More pillows were tossed around._

"_Imbecile!" Even more incredible, Gazzy picked up a can of Seven Up and sprayed it across the wooden floorboards, creating a dividing line between the both of them. _

"_Why can't you be more like Ella?"_

"_Why can't you be more like Fang?"_

"_Ow! Don't hit me!" _

"_Well, stop comparing me with – OW!" Suddenly, Nudge took a step in the puddle of soda, and slipped, falling on her butt. _

"_Oh, Nudge, are you okay?" Gazzy hurried towards Nudge's side, gripping her arm tightly. _

"_Yeah, I'm fine…" Nudge winced in pain as she glanced at the cut on her ring finger. How she got that cut was a complete mystery – she'll never know._

"_No, you're not! You're bleeding! C'mon, up you get. I'll go get you a Band-Aid." _

_Gazzy quickly dove into the depths of his jean pockets, and pulled out a scruffy-looking wallet. Inside, he found the prize he was looking for: One single Arthur-patterned Band-Aid. _

_Carefully, he wrapped the Band-Aid around Nudge's finger. "I keep this for emergencies." He explained proudly._

_Nudge then proceeded to slap his arm away. "It was just a stupid cut."_

"_You could get infections. I've learned."_

"_From what? Arthur?" She mocked. But no one seemed to notice that, for the rest of the day, whenever she wasn't strumming on the acoustic guitar, she continued to finger the Band-Aid like a wedding ring._

_End Flashback_

"You and I together, it just feels so right…I will never leave you, and no matter what anybody says, I'll be here to protect you." My verse was over, but I didn't feel satisfied with it because I was still day-dreaming about that day. That wonderful, wonderful day…

"You and I together, please don't ever let go of my hands. I'll never say 'good-bye' to you, even when this world ends…"

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

The crowd went crazy after the song ended. I did too, but I wouldn't dare show it in public. Instead, I'll take it out on Gazzy!

"Looks like somebody got hit by Cupid, straight in the face!" I sing-sang as Gazzy and Nudge walked back in, holding each other's hands. Another couple in the making? I think so.

"It was the crowd's request, they were so pushy!" Nudge muttered (Unusually quiet, may I also add) as she held up their entwined hands, but no one could deny the fact that she was literally glowing as she walked back in.

"Well," I said, clasping my hands together. "Who's next on the roster?"

"Me."

My blood turned icy cold as I whirled around. It was Black-Beetled Fang, and his…lovely…partner…Lissa. Fang's stylist definitely outdone herself: Swift side bangs ran down the side of his face, covering his left eye slightly. Even though he was only dressed in a pair of jeans and a simple black and white shirt, the simplicity of the outfit made his dark looks look even more striking than usual.

Kudos to you, Fang's stylist, kudos to you.

And Lissa? She was in the same tube dress, except it was overly tight, showing off unnecessary muffin top and a pair of black combat boots.

"We're going to have the _**BEST**_ performance, aren't we, Fangie?" She asked the question as if she were talking to her puppy. Grossness to the max – no pun intended there either…

And _**FANGIE**_? When in the world was Fang named Fangie?

"Of course, Lissa, of course. Let's just put on a good show for the crowd to watch." Although his face didn't show it, his tone obviously showed signs of depression. I wouldn't be surprised: Who wouldn't be depressed if they had to be repressed by her for eight hours a day?

"C'mon guys. Let's watch what they have in store for us…" I said in a mocking tone, and the rest of the group sniggered. Iggy was about to plop down beside me, but seeing Ella alone on the other sofa…well…he's a gentleman, and you know how gentlemen do it.

"Ella, save me a seat! I've gotta look at what Lissa cooked up!"

Good boy!

Nudge and Gazzy plopped beside me, and Nudge kicked off the dangerously high heels she was wearing. "Oh, these?" She asked, catching my grimace. "They're NOTHING compared to the shoes I wore for the Jeremy Scott Fashion Awards. K, so he had me wear these stupid sneakers that totally clashed with my outfit…and he didn't even warn me beforehand! I was so angry with him that I – "

"Shut up, Nudge!" Gazzy shouted beside us as the screen before us showed Fang and Lissa, walking towards the center of the stage, where a couch, a television, a table with a glass of milk and (Surprise, surprise) a plate of Oreo cookies and a legit working wooden door stood.

"So, you guys get microphones and guitars, but she gets a living room setting? That's totally unfair."

"Life's always unfair when you've got somebody who has a sugar mama whom they can leech off money from." Nudge murmured.

So true…so very true.

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

"Oh, Fang, I'm so happy you finally agreed! We're going to have such a blast on stage!"

I tried to smile at Lissa, but it was no use. For the past three weeks, I've tried my hardest to get my mind off of Ari by spending most of my time with Lissa, and making hurtful comments towards him whenever I had the opportunity to.

But the more I started to poke fun at him, the more remorseful I felt. What good was it anyway? Pushing Ari away…growing closer to Lissa…nothing good came out of this, except that I would still keep my face.

The crowd pretty much exploded when the two of us walked on, and the entire stage lit up with glowing light sticks. A group of people even banded together to make bold and bright _**"WE SUPPORT FANSA!"**_ posters. Ugh, how sick.

I made myself comfortable on the sofa. All I had to do now was put my acting skills into play and join in when the chorus comes along. In the song, Lissa is singing about how her boyfriend (Played by yours truly) is the total opposite from her, and that I should learn to understand her better so I can be a better boyfriend.

The song, despite its catchy beat, it's extremely selfish. Now, I'm not going to go on a debate with you right now, because the door has swung open, the song has begun, and Lissa's pushed me onto the sofa while she sings about how we're "Black and white, black and white."

"Black and white, black and white, you and I are black and white. I'm so hot, and you're so cool." Pain seems to hit my heart hard, and I suddenly realize that I'm thinking about how Ari is laughing at the lyrics. "We're a couple, wow that's a mystery!" A mystery indeed. I sighed while crossing my legs, flipping on the "television" to ignore Lissa.

Lissa proceeds to dance around the television, garnering cat-calls from the crowd and (I know, for sure) horrendous laughter from the dressing room.

"It really, it really, it really, it really…makes no sense! It makes no sense!"

Life never makes sense, Lissa, didn't your mother ever teach you? For example: This whole act doesn't make sense to me.

"From head to toe, we don't even match. I know out there that there are better boys for me. It really, it really, it really, it really makes no sense! It makes no sense!" Oh, dang, Lissa, you've got so much pride. Do you really think there are better boys out there for you?

I stand up, take an Oreo from the plate and stuff it in my mouth. I might as well; there are at least a dozen. No one would mind if I took one, anyway.

"Hey boy, try to match, try to change, hey come on boy, take something like pride and kick it, kick it, kick it! Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no! Now try to match with me!" Lissa gives a tug on my arm, and here I am, face-to-face with her.

Quickly, I head towards the opposite side of the living room. Here's my verse; oh, God, that lovely verse…

"Oh you and I, we're black and white. You, you, you and I, we're black and white! It's always your way, your way, how can you be like this? You don't know…you don't know my feelings, why don't you even know?" As part of our "fighting relationship", she's supposed to pick up the lamp and chuck it at my head. Oh, yippee…

"Boy, we're black and white! You, you, you and I…we're black and white! You said there's no one but me, no one, and I looked around…oh, please, oh, please, oh, please, come back to me!"

No, Lissa; I don't want to come back to you. In fact, we were _NEVER_ in a relationship in the first place.

It was all an act you see. Not only am I in one drama, I'm in another one. The one that actually holds high importance in my heart, the one where I actually have to lie in order to save myself from more humiliation, the one where I'm going to have to hurt Ari the most…

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

As much as I hate watching Lissa do her mambo jumbo crap towards Fang (Like giving him a lap dance and what not), I was pretty much laughing my butt off in the dressing room.

"HAHAHA, OH MY GOD…YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS. THIS HAS TO BE THE CHEESIEST PERFORMANCE I HAVE EVER WATCHED IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. HAHAHA!" I laughed, causing cramps in my stomach.

Nudge slapped my arm, for she was also doubled over in pain from too much laughter. "Did you see the way her armpit was all sweaty when she had to pick up that lamp? I can tell you that lamp doesn't weigh much more than ten pounds, tops!"

Suddenly, Angel tottered in on her heels, smiling cheerfully at me. "Ari, don't forget we still have our performance left! You shouldn't be laughing too hard; otherwise, you're going to cramp up!"

"I already have cramps, Angel!" I said, wiping the last of the tears away from the corners of my eyes.

"Go get a glass of water. The song is about to end soon!" She suggested, and I obeyed. I got onto my feet, smoothing out the wrinkles on my pants and headed to the pantry for a glass of water. I had to hurry back though; I didn't want to miss the "gorgeous finale".

Halfway back to the crowded sitting area, however, it was eerily creepy. I watched all of them stare motionless at the screen. "What's up guys?" I asked cheerfully. "Did Lissa's dress fall off or something?"

Angel was the first one to move. She was trying to drag me away, and her eyes averted to avoid any sort of eye contact with me. "C'mon, Ari, we have to go prepare."

"No way!" I whipped my hand back curiously. "Why is everyone – "

That's when I saw it. The table holding the plate of cookies and the glass of milk had toppled over, the remaining furniture was overturned, and the spotlight had found its way to the center of the stage, where Lissa had jumped into Fang's arms and started kissing him fiercely.

The most miraculous thing was…Fang was kissing her back, and that's when my lightened heart from just a few seconds ago had crashed…

And it was immediately ripped into shreds.

The glass of water slipped from my grip, and smashed into little bits of glass on the floor.

The worst part of this entire ordeal? It was the fact that I was going to have to pretend everything was fine. For a girl who refuses to cry under the most extreme circumstances…the tears were already threatening to fall._

* * *

_

**YUP. That's the end of Chapter 14 for now. C: Not to worry my dears! An overdose of Faxness will be coming next. C: As always, thanks for the reviewers, you extremly wonderful people! Your feedback, your constructive criticism and your reviews are definitely welcomed and are a major yes! Haha.**** I'll be on vacation from Saturday until next Wednesday, so I might not be able to get a headstart on Chapter 15. But I will definitely whenever I get the chance! Have a fantastic remainder of March (LOL XD I think I said this in Chapter 13!)! **

**If you guys are curious to know which songs I used, here they are! And yes, they are (Roughly) all the English translations of Korean songs XD!**

**Fang and Lissa**

_**GNa (Choi Gina) - Black and White**_

**Gazzy and Nudge**

_**Park Bom - You and I**_

**Iggy and Ella**

_**Narsha - I'm In Love**_

**Max and Angel (Who are performing in Chapter 15)**

_**2NE1 - It Hurts **_

**I'll be sure to give shout-outs to ALL my lovely reviewers for Chapter 12, 13 and 14 in the next one! Bye for now, my loves! Good luck with school and whatever you may have! **

**Luff, **

**Sam C:**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi guys! It's Sam C: here! Okay, so first of, I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE. :C I've been extremely busy, having to deal with schoolwork (Once again!) and lousy teachers. :C As well, I have been suffering from a minor case of writers' block, but not to worry! C: After this, I'm going to work on Chapter 16. So anyways, I just wanted to give you guys a shout-out for helping My Fair Lady reach..let's see uh...215! 215 reviews! C: Wow. We've met another goal, and it's all thanks to you guys! C: Words cannot express how thankful I am for having you guys support My Fair Lady, so please be patient with me for Chapter 16! I will definitely try to get it up as soon as I can.**

**Shout-outs will be listed on the bottom! C: Enjoy!**

**Max - OMFG. GET OUT. OUT. OUT. OUT. OUT. OUT!  
Sam :C - What did I do?  
Fang - What do you take Max for? Some damsel in distress?  
Sam :CCC - Well, I...  
Nudge - It adds to the drama. Y'know, it spices things up! Obviously, Fang, you'll never understand it, considering how you pull a poker face so often!  
Sam :CCCCC - I ish so sad right now...  
Angel - Oh, Sammy, don't cry!  
Iggy - Well, uh, I kinda have to agree with Fang here...seriously? You're making Max f-  
****Sam :C - OMFG. DON'T SPOIL ANYTHING!  
Gazzy - The cheese in the fridge is spoiled. What else is spoiled?  
Sam :C - THE STORYLINE!  
Fang - Max isn't that light, y'know...  
Max - Excuse me?  
Sam C: - Pardon us while we get this matter settled. In the meantime, on with the story!**

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

I can stand plenty of things, but there are times when my patience is put to the test. For example: One of my pet peeves is when people throw a temper tantrum. _**On stage.**_ Call it some other fancy, schmancy name to make Lissa look better; I don't give a crap. It's a pet peeve of mine I cannot tolerate.

Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking: As an idol, I should've developed the supernatural ability to overcome these sorts of problems and deal with the frustration post-performance. I'm loved and cherished across the nation – no, I am NOT being pretentious. I've endured much more difficult and dangerous situations before (Falling spotlights, poisoned sushi, orange juice laced with date rape – I'm a pretty tough kid), so your lovely, adoringly gorgeous soul-mate Lissa Gorgorvitch should be no problem, right?

Yeah – you're totally wrong.

Firstly, Lissa is NOT my soul mate. No matter how many scandalously racy outfits she models (To be honest, I can't dream of any famous designer who would want her on their show – Lissa, with a Louis Vuitton bag?), no matter how coppery red her thick mop of hair is, she is definitely _**NOT**_ my ideal type.

Give me the female version of Ari, ask her to dye her hair red (If she wants – it's just an asset) and I'll be a very content and happy young man.

On the other hand, you don't have to give me the female version of Ari, but give me Emma Stone. That works too…but…we're not talking about ideal types right now…

If there is one thing I can't stand about idol singers, it's their persona that they carry on stage if it brings negative feedback from the ones we are carrying the song out for. Nobody, and I mean nobody, wants to see overly excessive cleavage on stage. I mean, what's up with that?

Okaaay, fine, I'm lying. From a guy's perspective, I can tell you that cleavage can definitely increase the attractiveness of a girl, but it's just "in the moment." At the same time, what does that tell you?

Obviously nothing, other than the fact that the same girl can't find other ways to be eye-catching.

Girls, there is nothing more attractive and sexy than confidence. I know I often come off as a jerk, but this is the sentimental, more thoughtful side of me. I know exactly what's going through your head right now: Fang? Thoughtful? Fang plus thoughtful is like olives with an ice-cream sundae.

Of course, there is always going to be the minority of twats that only fall in love based on appearances, but that's just totally superficial of them anyway.

_**Back on track here…**_

Okay, so what my little ramble up there was just a proclamation to the world that cleavage and skimpy outfits will get you nowhere, except it will grant you success in dark alleyways of Los Angeles.

Oh, right, don't forget a bad attitude, which is what Lissa is showing me right now: By grabbing the nearest item within reach and, with all the strength she could gather in her arm, wobbly chucked it (The lamp) at my head.

I give her a disapproving gaze, as if to say "Lissa…_**WHAT THE FUCK**_?"

Pardon my language, but let me ask you a question.

How can _**YOU**_ endure somebody so despicable that they purposefully kick over the furniture just because her hand slipped from mine during a dance scene, resulting in a small tumble and having her fall right on her butt?

I can reassure you that I've seen strange things before, but watching Lissa dance definitely takes the cake away from the beast of Dartmoor.

Simply put: She can't dance to save her life. The worst part is that she's putting the blame on somebody else (Yours truly), and she's getting revenge by throwing a temper tantrum on stage. I'll admit: It's working.

Damn, she's good – she's as good as a pile of crap gets.

Now, she's doing even more damage to the stage. Thank God it was L.A. Muzik who will be paying for all expenses for this performance. With her newly bought thigh-high black boots, Lissa kicked the television angrily, and it miraculously flew into the air and near the first row of audiences (Who, by the way, were screaming frantically).

Great, now she's using my head as a target, meaning I could suffer concussions from her. Oh, my God, if nobody puts a stop to this train wreck, she'll eventually have a nervous breakdown and will kill somebody – correction: I mean, anybody – with a poker chip.

Believe me, she'll find a way.

Being the swift Fang that I was, I managed to avoid her feeble attacks easily. However, my temper was rising. Dude, if you had to deal with this banshee from the fourteenth level of Hell, you would be furious too, right?

The heat was radiating strongly off my cheeks, and hence, I knew I was burning up rapidly, and in a matter of moments, I would resemble a juicy, ripe tomato.

I face-palmed myself, unable to fathom the amount of GIFs that will be sweeping the Internet tonight on Tumblr/Facebook/Xanga/Twitter/YouTube and other social networking websites that I have not yet discovered.

Hence, I shall teach a wonderful moral right now: Never underestimate the power of a hormone-raging fan girl, who has god-like talents on Photoshop that could easily make an embarrassing picture look twice as stupid as it was in the first place.

"Oh please, oh please, oh please, come back to me!" Oh, my…Lord. Are my ears deceiving me? Or did I hear glass shattering in the background?

Ah, well, I'll be famous for having terribly inaccurate hearing – **RIGHT AFTER THIS PERFORMANCE**. I feel like my eardrums are about to burst, and will disintegrate into nothingness. Yippee me…

The worst thing about performances was that you couldn't control the situation or yell out "STOP" when things started to go out of proportion. You just had to go with the flow, and unfortunately, it looked like catching Lissa in my arms was one thing I had to do today.

Great…I was _**SO**_ looking forward to this moment…

And here comes the crashing engine herself: Shall I call the producer of "Thomas the Train" to start filming a new show called "Lissa the Hissing, Kissing Locomotive"?

Oh, my God, I nearly took a stumble as she crashed into my arms and wrapped her legs around my thighs. Amidst the confusion, she took this as an opportunity and crashed her lips into mine.

This was _**NOT**_ what we agreed to…but…

I kissed her back anyway.

You know what, though?

The kiss meant nothing to me…and to be completely frank, this was part of the plan that failed. The conclusion was inevitable. All three weeks of embedded Oreo-crusted finger nails and inhaling bad BO…wasted.

Lissa could dart her tongue into my mouth at twenty-five times per minute, and I could remain completely intact.

Yeah, it was completely messed up.

At first, I had planned to kiss Lissa, just so something inside me could erupt and I could forget about my attraction towards Ari. In a way, I was using her, but this is no ordinary girl we're talking about right now, are we? In fact, she'll be glad she managed to kiss someone of my calibre…just sayin'.

Operation: GAOM (Get Ari Off my Mind) has failed. At the same time, I had also hurt myself and Ari. My heart starts to sink. While I'm on stage, practically making out with Lissa, I can just imagine the expression on his face.

I was so not looking forward to going back home to the villa today and facing Ari…or eating at the bistro-style table, sitting beside Ari and slapping his hand when he tried to steal the meatballs from my plate, or having another heated argument with him, or sketching him on my notepad…

Oh, my God, what did I just say? Dear Lord, today was just not my day, was it? I can literally smell the pile of upcoming disasters that are headed our way.

Hmm, on the plus side, I just found out that I can rhyme very well. That's a start.

I guess.

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

Time seemed to have stop. Everything in the dressing room remained bone-chillingly frozen, and I would've preferred for things to be this way.

Unfortunately, I exist in a world where I do not have possession of the insanely awesome remote control from the movie "**Click**", so I am unable to freeze present time, stomp onto stage, and (before a completely silent and starry-eyed crowd) give Lissa a good kick in the groin – and another "X" amount of ailments.

The continuous tick-tock of the clock on the wall snapped me back into reality. Have I mentioned that the water from the broken glass was now seeping into my leather shoes? My socks just seem to love absorbing all that purified liquid.

Angel wrapped her slender fingers around my clenched fist, and shot me a sympathetic look. "You okay?" She mouthed towards me.

Crap, the first teardrop must've already made its' way down my cheek. My eyes are watering, and the salty tears are overflowing. Through my wispy vision, Angel pressed a hand against her mouth – with a horrified expression on her face – and hurriedly dragged me away from the rest of the group, who were still staring woebegone at the television screen.

Angel and I scuttled into a nearby changing room, and she quickly grabbed a handful of tissues from a box and pressed them into my hands.

Oh, dear Lord, I hated it when I cried.

The tears came instantly. As long as I was in a secluded, cramped and encased box, I was able to let loose. My legs began to feel like weak jelly, and I sank down onto my knees slowly.

The make out scene just continued to replay over and over in my brain. There was no way I could erase it from my memories anymore. It was stuck to me like Super Glue.

Tch. Men…they were such a pain. Why did we need them anyway?

…

Oh, right, reproduction. I completely forgot.

Angel kneeled down beside me, and wrapped both arms around my neck and started to stroke my hair. "Max, don't cry. It's going to be okay…I'm sure that it's just one huge misunderstanding…" But I could hear it. There was doubt in her voice, and knowing Angel, that kiss could not be taken as a misinterpretation.

As much as I wanted to disagree with her, I was growing weary. All I did was rest my head on her shoulder while she continued to comfort me. Oh, the perks of having a sister – for those who have one, I am extremely envious of you.

I didn't have the energy to perform anymore – or do anything else, for that matter. Suddenly, we heard raging, angry voices emitting from back stage.

"Where the hell are they? They're supposed to be on in…less than thirty seconds!" I could hear the production manager of Music Central screaming wildly, and both Iggy and Ella were trying their best to calm her down.

Poor kids; I truly felt grateful for what they were doing.

"Please calm down, Ms. Ashton. I'm sure there's a plausible explanation as to where they have disappeared off to." Iggy replied, trying hard to avoid getting on Ms. Ashton's bad side.

"You aren't the production manager, so you obviously do _**NOT**_ comprehend the amount of stress I'm currently undergoing!" Her screechy voice was oozing in cobra venom.

Yikes.

However, with Ella's collectiveness, Iggy's irrational ways to keep calm while facing raging cat ladies' and two quick-sprinting minds at work; they could stall us some time until I reached the maximum time limit to calm down.

"If you two don't find Angel and Ari in lickity-split, your entertainment companies will be hearing from my lawyers. I cannot afford to lose my job as a production manager. I worked hard to get to the top, and I'm not going to go into early retirement because of two irresponsible, hormone-raging teenagers." She snapped bitterly, pacing the room in high heels. "Jack, where's my water?"

"Jack" nearly invaded our hiding spot, so Angel tucked closer towards me. I tried my best to keep silent, but uh…yeah, that obviously failed.

Fortunately, "Jack" scuttled off somewhere else, rummaged through something and muttered a sentence that sounded suspiciously like "The thing is such a bitch".

Yep, I'm going to have to agree with him.

"You must be kidding yourself, woman. Both Ari and Angel are extremely responsible young adults, capable of taking care of themselves and are not going to make the next episode of 'Teen Mom'." Ella's voice fought back sharply. Honestly, I could hear the knives of words penetrating the production manager.

Dear Ella: If I were a boy (Cue Beyoncé's song), you would be my number one.

"How right you are, Ella," Iggy added approvingly.

"To be honest, I really do not care if you sent our entertainment companies warning letters. You've still got a few good years in you. May I suggest flipping burger patties or perhaps making a living as a prostitute?"

"You are a sick, sick teenager, Ella Martinez." Ms. Ashton snarled viciously. "You will show me some respect. I am your superior."

"Am I? Or are the used condoms in your bag much more repulsive?" Ella replied airily. "Don't try to play innocent and pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about." For some strange reason, there was a pause. I pressed my ear against the door eagerly.

"Oh, Jack! Oh, Jack! You are much, much more experienced in old-fashion necking, compared to my husband!" Ella imitated, her pitch several ranges higher than normal. I had to stifle a snort, even if my face was flushed from crying. I glanced back at Angel, who started to fold the dried up tissues into small cranes.

Dang, was there anything this little talented girl couldn't do? I turned my body towards the door, and once again, pressed my ear against the cold material.

"Why you little bitch…you eavesdropped on us…"

"Not necessarily. You brought it upon yourself, you pathetic excuse of a PM – or should we say, post-menopausal cat lady? Let me tell you something: If I were a maid, I would choose my own jobs and chores. I won't do dishes, period. If I were a student, I would do my homework when I felt like it. If I were a sales associate, I'd tell a mini-cooper off in a second. And because I'm a singer…"

Ella's voice sounded threatening. Oh, God, I wish I really could take a peek at the show, but if I showed myself now, then there would be no finale at all.

"I am given the right to protect my band mates when they're accused of committing some felony that hasn't been proven. Go out there, and announce for a fifteen minute intermission. No performances are going to get cancelled, so everybody's going to stay happy."

"And more free peanuts while you're at it!" Iggy blurted out.

I opened the changing room door an inch and peered at the scene before me.

"Ten minutes: Take it or leave it." Ms. Ashton muttered under her breath. "And no free peanuts. Music Central will be bankrupt by morning if we keep supplying you with chocolate macadamia nuts."

Ms. Ashton – I'll admit that she is rather pretty for her age, but like they say 'The prettiest rose will always have the most thorns' – and Jack, her blonde assistant who was blushing furiously, both stormed out angrily.

"High five," Iggy said, raising his hand. Ella returned the gesture, but it wasn't long before she noticed that she was being watched – by me, of course.

"Alright, Ari, you can come out now," Ella murmured slowly, tucking a piece of dark hair behind her ear. I looked back at Angel fearfully, who replaced her caring demeanour with a disturbed expression on her face. Angel shook her head furiously, her halo of natural blonde curls bouncing in the process.

"No, Ari! Don't go out there!" She hissed furiously, tugging on her arm. "You look like shit!"

"Excuse me?" I asked incredulously, but it figures. I always looked like shit anyway.

I stood up slowly, my legs still slightly unsteady. I sucked in a deep breath, and walked out. Seeing my tear-stricken face, Ella blanched faintly but she quickly recovered. Damn, I bet she knows about my attraction for Fang now.

"Oh, my God! Ari, what happened to your face?" Gazzy exclaimed, turning his head to look at me.

"Can you tell?" I asked wearily. I reached up to scratch my itching eye, but for some strange reason, black ink had completely mutilated the sleeve of my overly-long dress shirt. I mean, WTF? Was I crying black tears?

Nudge only screamed loudly when she looked at me, for a total length of nine and a half seconds.

"Thank-you for stating the obvious, Nudge," I said dully, brushing my hair away from my face. "I know I look like crap."

"And for sure you do!" Nudge cried, tears brimming in her eyes. "Your make-up is running so much!"

Oh.

…

**OH**. So that's what they were blanching/screaming/shrieking about. It was the non-waterproof eyeliner that Cat had applied earlier, which was now running because of my weeping.

Nudge immediately stood up and sauntered towards me, grabbing my wrist painfully. "Ow!" I cried. As if I needed more injuries today…

"What's the matter with you?" My eyes narrowed furiously at Nudge as I tried to wrench my arm back.

"Didn't you hear what that bitch just said? We've only got ten minutes to fix you up, and you…" Nudge shot me a disgusted look as she extended her long arm towards Ella, who had her arms crossed against her chest. "Yup, we're going to need a lot of work…Ella, have you got any bobby pins?"

"It's not a total train-wreck. We can fix him up. Although…" Ella bit her lip worriedly. Reaching over the counter top, she pulled out a small box of black mini hair clips and handed them to Nudge. "You're going to have to work with us for a bit, understand?"

I nodded. "But first," I interrupted before Nudge went behind the counter for a bottle of make-up remover and an exploding bag of cotton balls.

"Yeah, what is it, Ari?"

"Does anybody have a mirror? I want to take a look."

Nudge snorted as she walked back towards us. I watched as Gazzy stared, open-mouthed, at the fit stature of this African-American. I could see the pink hearts forming in Gazzy's eyes…literally.

Yup, I can tell that Ella wasn't the only one who got hit by Cupid's arrow today.

"Please, Ari, trust me. You don't want to look. I would never dream of letting someone so naturally good-looking ruin their self-confidence by having them stare into their reflection of horrors." Nudge proclaimed, opening the sickly bottle of make-up remover. She wrinkled her nose as the fumes rushed up her nose. I didn't even have to sniff it; I bet it smelt horrible. "Oh, my God, the smell is SO gross! Angel, where'd you buy this?"

Angel gave off a smug smirk. "eBay? Where else?"

Ella clasped her hands together. "Let's do some magic, shall we?"

* * *

You know what's scary? Being operated on by three make-up "specialists", who insisted on searching up a make-up tutorial on YouTube by some chick…

Yeah, I said it: It was a chick. Not a hen.

Well, I can see why they loved following the instructions of this chick. She was quite pretty, and she insisted on using organic ingredients for her tutorials. What girl – or male-impersonating girl – would not love that?

I never knew organic honey, sugar and olive oil could make an awesome exfoliator. Huh – the things I never knew about YouTube. All I ever searched up were competitions from the 2008 Olympics.

"And, we're done!" Nudge proclaimed excitedly, setting down the eye lash curler. Whoa, waaait a second, something's not right: Eye lash curler? What for?

My eyes opened in astonishment to the wide assortment of make-up products sprawled out all over the coffee table. Pretty much everything was there: Lipsticks…eyeliner…eye shadow…blush…foundation brushes…WHAT? LIPSTICKS?

Quickly, I got to my feet and sprinted (Yes, I sprinted; I'm that worried about the special "enhancements" the girls made on my usually blemish-free face) towards the wall mirror that was situated beside the plasma television screen.

Oh, no.

Not only did they fix me (I'll tell you one thing: The skills that a girl can hone about make-up are scarily terrifying), they "fixed" me so well to the point that they…they…

They "_**girl-ified**_" me! Yes, I know it's _**NOT**_ a word you would find in Merriam-Webster's; it's my own creation. So what? Sue me.

"What's _**THIS**_?" I shrieked angrily. My entire face was caked with make-up; a rose-coloured blush was applied generously to the apples of my cheeks, making me look like…oh, I don't know…something that was totally **OUT** of this planet. Oh, right, and mutilated.

Eyeliner was applied, but it wasn't simply outlining the almond shaped eyeball that I possessed. Ella had to create this weird "fish-tail" pattern…

And don't even get me started on the mascara. Oh, my God, too…much…intensity…on…the…make-up! I look like my mother, for God's sake!

And_** THAT**_ is a bad thing.

"You made me look like a girl!" I wailed miserably, slamming my fists violently against the coffee table. Iggy elbowed me painfully in the ribs, and I shot him a death glare. "What?"

"Would it help if I were to remind you that you…ARE a girl in the first place?" He whispered quietly in my ear.

I couldn't argue with that, but I stomped on his foot anyway, leaving him yelping in pain. Sorry Ig, but this was not the appropriate time to be playing around and messing with me.

Hurried footsteps walked into our waiting room, and here I was, face to face with the bitch in the sundress: Ms. Ashton.

She eyed me evilly, and I was suddenly reminded of an evil witches' cat. Purr evil…yes, and I intended for a pun to happen there. Deal with it. "Well, hello there, Ari. You've caused us some trouble just now, but the problem has been dealt with, thank-you for showing up. Was your little date with Angel fun?"

"Not at all, Ms. Ashton," I replied coolly, crossing my arms against my chest. "I must thank-you for granting us a ten-minute intermission before our performance. Did you enjoy your backstage rumble with Jack?"

Patches of pink tinged Ms. Ashton's cheeks; ha, I was right! In your face – or…HER face!

"Get out there right now." She scowled, pointing at the hallway that would inevitably lead us to the stage.

"Ready, Angel?" I asked, trying hard to ignore the clumps of mascara that were starting to cluster together into miniature, mushy black balls.

"Oh, Fang! Wasn't our performance fabulous? You did so well…we have such wonderful chemistry together!"

I froze in my tracks. As I looked up, I was staring, with my heartbeat racing at a high velocity, at the one who had hurt me the most…

"Fang…" I murmured under my breath.

Fang couldn't keep his eyes off of me. He continued to stare at me intently, and God, oh God; those butterflies were **NOT** doing a good job of keeping me from pouncing on him and beating the crap out of him.

No suggestiveness there whatsoever, just clarifying that.

Lissa noticed the staring contest that had just occurred between Fang and I, so instead, she interrupted with a snide comment. "What happened to your face, Ari? It looks like my younger niece experimenting with her demented Barbie doll!"

"Lissa," I growled, my fist shaking in fury. "Oh, wait! Where are my manners? If I have to acknowledge you, I should greet you, the lovely Majesty, by your full name."

"What are you playing at?" Angel hissed. "C'mon, we have to go!"

I only raised a finger – _**NOT**_ the middle finger! Come on, would you actually believe it if I did that to someone that sweet? Of course not! – at Angel to silence her.

Like Mom used to say, "Communication is essential in forming good relationships with others. If something bothers you, go ahead and speak your mind. It's better to have things out in the open, instead of keeping them, bottled up."

Oh, Mom, how I love you and your self-help books that you never read…

"Oh? So I'm the majesty now?" First things first: You must stroke the ego of your enemy. Slowly, I walked towards Lissa, who had a smug "I'm finally in control" sneer set on her face. Psh, she'll be in for a surprise later on.

"Of course," I replied, bowing down to curtsy. Then, without any warning…

**BAM!**

With all the strength that I could muster, I gave Lissa a good punch, right on her plastic nose that her sugar momma paid for. My fist was shaking furiously, my eyes were burning with vengeance, and I swear, my make-up was starting to run again…but who gives a crap?

Several things happened at that exact moment. Everyone in the dressing room screamed in shock, while Fang only gapped as Lissa staggered backwards in shock, collapsing onto the dirt-covered floor. Lissa grasped the bridge of her nose with her manicured fingers, eyeing me with the message of death enclosed in those tennis balls that she calls "gorgeous vision-seekers".

"How dare you!" She began angrily. Man, oh, man…

Ladies and gentlemen: I may be given the opportunity to perform with three amazingly talented and good-looking guys, but this? This wonderful mess that is squirming in front of me right now? It is definitely my idea of perfection.

"Did I forget something?" I cut in. "Oh, right!" I clasped my hands together like a three-year-old would when they see a lollipop (Example: Gazzy). Resting peacefully on the counter was an untouched bowl of thick, creamy sauce. Maybe it was ranch, or maybe it was a special cheddar cheese sauce used for dipping vegetables in later? Who knows?

With my outreached arms, I wrapped my fingers around the bowl and poured the delicious-looking concoction over Lissa's head. A shower of thick orange rain fell from the glass, and Lissa started to squeal in distress: Something about her "thousand dollar tube dress"?

Oh, whatever: Her sugar mama was so wealthy to the point that she was given a red carpet every single time she arrived someplace new. No need to fuss…and besides, I'm sure that the cheese sauce will get off _**EXTREMELY **_easily – with bleach, that is.

And there is definitely no way in hell that Lissa would know what bleach is.

"SWEET!" Gazzy yelled from behind me, cat-calling with Nudge.

I set the glass back on the counter, and bowed down to the incredulous bunch that had just witnessed the scene before them.

"You are my hero!" Nudge squealed excitedly, tottering over in her high heels to give me a giant bear hug. I wrapped my arms around her and sighed, feeling much more content than I have been recently.

"Well, Nudge, we all knew that she was going to get it someday. Let's just say…this is her 'just desserts'." I said.

"But who knew that her just desserts would turn out to be so savoury?" Gazzy remarked, bounding towards us eagerly. He dipped his finger into the sauce and tasted it, smiling gleefully. "Mmm! Wow, Nudge, you've GOT to try this. I could like…be given twenty barrels of this, be locked in my room with no Internet connection and I'd still be a very happy guy."

"That is SO GROSS, Gazzy. Didn't your mother teach you table manners? If you want to taste something, use a spoon." I pretended to scold him, but I handed him a plastic spoon anyway. "If you're going to eat from a garbage can, do it with class."

For a moment, Gazzy cocked his head to one side, confused. But later on, he understood what I meant. He grinned mischievously. "I see what you did there!"

I chuckled, and then ruffled his blonde hair. Clever child; maybe behind that Arthur-obsessed yet adorable face, he _**DID**_ manage to obtain some of Angel's brilliance.

"You are one heck of a man, Ari," Ella commented, still gawking in astonishment.

"Thank-you, Ella." I held out my arm, and Angel took it graciously, smiling approvingly at the masterpiece I had just created. "Shall we?"

"We shall."

Before exiting, however, Fang caught my shoulder. The touch sent an electric shock throughout my body. Something in me wanted to whirl around and yell at him. One side of me wanted to turn around, and scream insults and comments that will inevitably lead to the death of me (Or in this case, Ari). "Do you know what you just did?" His voice was growing tired and weary.

Another side of me wanted to rip off Lissa's cheese-covered hair extensions, attach them to random parts on my head and tell him the truth. God, I was so tempted to just reach out and tell him the whole truth…

But no, I couldn't. I knew what had to be done.

"I know what I did, and I'm willing to suffer all the consequences for it." I replied, speaking to air, rather than Fang. I couldn't bear to look at him. Why? It was because I knew that he was extremely disappointed in me, and seeing that expression on his face…well…

"Why did you do it?" He asked persistently, grasping onto my arm tightly.

"Ari, please tell me why." His grip tightened immensely, and even if I tried to shake him off, he just didn't take the hint and loosen his clutch on me. Besides, my arm was starting to get sore…

"Let me go." My head was starting to spin, but what was it from? It was probably just exhaustion.

"Just tell me –"His voice was coloured in desperation.

"Let me go." I repeated as I listened to the blood pound furiously in my ears. "I'm not obligated to answer any of your questions."

Finally, after several moments, his hand dropped down to his side. When I was just a few steps away from the dark canal, I turned around and gazed at him.

Fang just closed his eyes and started to shake his head with sadness at me. My heart suddenly gave a tight lurch, and the feelings of discontentment started to flood back in.

"If you want to know," I said, having an intense staring contest with the floor. "All you have to do is question yourself. Eventually, you'll understand."

"What is this? Some riddle that I'm supposed to decipher?"

It was my turn to shake my head, but without saying anymore, I began to walk away from the astounded group behind me.

Angel began to blubber on about my actions, but was I really listening? Not really.

_Yes, Fang_…I thought to myself as the light from the stage started to blind me.

_To answer your question, it is a riddle. It's probably the most confusing riddle that mankind will probably ever face in their lifetime…_

_**It's the riddle of love, and right now, we're both failing at trying to decipher one another.**_

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

What did he mean? Behind all of his actions, what was his purpose? What was Ari trying to get out from it?

I didn't know, and as much as I craved for a simple answer from him, I didn't have the energy to think right now. Even so, that question continued to boggle my brain. Even after he left for the stage with Angel, all I could imagine in my head was him telling me that I had to look within myself for the answer.

Who does he think he is? A God, a saint or some other mythical creature that I'm supposed to worship at his feet? I bet he's a unicorn…

Just kidding; what do you take me for? Gazzy?

"Did you see that?" Gazzy exclaimed, totally enthralled. He dropped his spoon onto Lissa's thigh, staring awestruck at the black passage.

"What?" Iggy asked, reaching for a mop that was standing beside the refrigerator.

"Ari did a complete three hundred and sixty! I mean, have you ever seen him act like that around us?"

Iggy shook his head. "No shit idiot…I'm pretty sure none of us have ever seen Ari use sarcasm to the expert level, and be able to use metaphors so effectively that even _**YOU**_ understand them." With difficulty, he started to poke at the mess that was huddled in a ball.

Is it wrong to feel at least slightly guilty for this whole ordeal?

But then, I think back to the temper tantrum thrown on stage, and think of all those times when Lissa's inability to take another's point of view (A sign of egocentrism) got the best of her and…

Yeah, I think it's worth it.

"Move over, you great piece of lard." Iggy complained, poking hard at Lissa. "I can't mop up this mess if you're in the way."

"You're one to talk," Lissa responded bitterly. "How would you like it if you were punched in the nose, and mocked at?"

Iggy threw his free hand in the air, trying his best to look completely innocent. Then again, if you were in his position, I can assure you that you will one hundred percent laugh your ass off at her. But Iggy's a gentleman, and a gentleman will always do his best to keep a girl pleased.

Even he had to cut her some slack. Iggy sighed, resting his chin atop of the mop. "Fine, then. Finish your crying and get on to the bathroom. You reek."

"I am _**DONE**_ my crying!" Lissa screamed, standing up. Suddenly, I felt a pair of sticky arms wrap around my waist. Oh, my God…don't tell me…

Yep, she did it.

Even when she was covered head to toe in cheese sauce, she decided to disfigure my t-shirt with her hands, meaning that when she let go, there would be two cheese-sauced handprints added on. I wasn't even going to bother trying to rescue it. I'm just going to burn it.

Lissa rested her head on my back. "I'm so glad I still have you, Fang," She mumbled, her voice muffled. "I'm going to be the bigger person here, and forgive Ari."

I could literally feel my heart sighing with relief. Thank God for that…thank god for that.

"So are we still on for our first date?"

And there she goes, ruining it once again.

In fury, I pushed her away. Now that I think about it, that kiss – and everything else that Lissa had done – was absolutely disgusting. I'm extremely horrified with what I had done…oh, my God…allowing Lissa to give me a lap dance is (In my opinion) worse than having to confess to the world that I'm in love with Ari.

Okay, well, maybe not "the world", but I'll start off small. Example? My mom.

"The date is called off," I responded angrily. Lissa banged her shoulder against the wall and started to bawl intensely.

"Faaannng! How could you! How could you let me have my heart broken twice in a day! You're my boyfriend…get me a Band-Aid or give me some Tylenol!" She whined, stomping the floor.

Boyfriend?

Boyfriend?

No. Way. In. Hell. Will. That. Ever. Happen. In. My. Entire. Lifetime.

"First of all, I'm _**NEVER**_ going to be your boyfriend. Second of all, if you're in so much pain, then I hope you die from it." I snarled.

I stomped over to the couch as I watched Angel and Ari on-screen, getting ready to perform. Gazzy skipped towards me, and leaned his arms against the couch, causing it to sag.

"What?" I asked. Right now, I was ninety-nine point nine percent annoyed and zero decimal zero one percent pissed off. Was there a difference? Both of them definitely had a significant difference in my books.

"Just admit it, Fang," Gazzy said suggestively, nudging my head with his elbow, grinning from ear to ear. "You loooved that kiss. I saw your face on-screen, y'know. There's nothing to hide...I can reassure you that you loooved having Lissa's tongue dart in and out, in and out, in and out…"

"Shut up." I interrupted angrily. "I'm not in the correct disposition for that right now."

I kicked over the coffee table, and listened to it shatter to shards. I knew I was going to have to pay for the damages later, but those compensations could be covered with cost – and maybe some begging and apology letters on my part.

But one thing was for sure: A friendship couldn't be repaired just through money. You could apologize to someone via gifts, or just you could use your most heartfelt and sincere request for forgiveness.

However, I don't think an apology would even suffice this time.

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

On stage, I listened to the extremely fanatical fan girls squeal at the sight of Angel and I together on stage. Oh, joy of joys…you can tell that this is one of my most favourite parts of being an idol singer stand-in for twin brothers, right?

Set in the middle of the stage was a grand piano, the kind that you would only find in a five-star restaurant. It was like love at first sight…on an inanimate object. Yeah, I was that crazed and hyped over the shiny material of the sleek, black instrument.

Okay, so I guess there are some lovely perks to being an idol singer too. New instruments and free food: What more could a girl ask for?

Yes, I'm a pig – deal with it.

"I know this is the wrong time to say this, but am I allowed to keep the piano after this performance? Like, honest to goodness?" I was so in love with it and its black and white keys, I almost forgot to sit down.

Angel only sighed. "Well, I highly doubt you'll be able to see it anymore once Lissa's mother finds out about that punching incident. In fact, I think Lissa's mother is going to take it to the junkyard."

I grimaced as I glanced through the five-page score that was set in front of me, stroking the smooth and shiny material of the instrument.

Angel shrugged, smirking slightly. "Well, you asked for honesty!"

As I laughed, I suddenly noticed a flat white object resting against the floor. Bending over to see what it was, I suddenly realized it was a flower.

It was a freshly-picked daisy from the garden (Or maybe the local florists') – more importantly, it was Fang's favourite flower.

The petals of it were nearly torn apart from the workers wheeling the piano on stage. I quickly extended my hand forward and reached for it. As destroyed as this particular daisy was, the simple colours of white and yellow seemed to…

I don't know if I'm even saying it properly: They seemed to be beckoning towards me?

There were only two petals left. There wasn't much use for it anymore, but I tucked it carefully into the pocket of my tuxedo. No harm in trying to conserve something, right?

The noise in the surrounding atmosphere died down, and immediately, my fingers started to work their magic on the keyboard.

Angel rested against the side of the piano, holding the microphone close to her mouth. "You put on the shoes that I bought you, and you walk the road with her. As if it's not much, you start to kiss her…"

For some strange reason, my thoughts flickered towards Lissa and Fang, and the make out scene that they had acted out just now. I flinched slightly, but I'm sure the camera caught it on broadcast anyway.

"You spray on the perfume that I gave you, and you embrace her. The promises that you made me…will you make it again?" I glanced up from my score to watch Angel, who was putting one hundred and ten percent into her performance. But guess what? My vision was clouded and foggy…

Holy crap, why are my eyes starting to water again?

"I guess that it's too late right now, it's clear that our love is over now. Whatever it is, please just tell me one thing."

"We really loved each other, but can't we go back?" After today, I'm upset to say that we can never go back…meaning Fang and me, me and Fang.

"It's only me that is hurting tonight…" It was my turn to sing, and I opened my mouth just as the first few tears started to make their way down my cheek.

Fuck. I hate crying in public.

"Have you changed? Right now, is there no more of me inside your heart? When I…when I think of you…it hurts so much, it hurts…and it continues to hurt…" My voice cracked underneath all that pressure, but I had to keep going. For Angel.

Angel glanced at me to make sure I was okay, but as soon as she saw my tears, she immediately manoeuvred behind and expertly started to wipe the tears away without raising any suspicions.

Tch. Why did women have to be programmed to be so emotional?

The rest of the performance proceeded the same way my relationship with Fang went: Downhill.

Just as we were nearing the end of the song, one of the cameras recording us caught a glimpse of my tear-flooded eyes, and instead of manoeuvring the camera so it concentrated more on Angel's saintly looks, he/she (Or maybe it was Ms. Ashton herself) closed up on me.

To whoever it may concern that understands the full mechanics of recording and cameras: You suck.

Everyone in the audience started to speak in rushed, worried voices. I bet I looked retarded on stage…

And my enlarged image on the back of the screen proved my statement true.

"Oh, poor Ari! I wonder what's wrong?"

"Maybe he's coming down with the flu!"

"You dolt! You don't cry when you're coming down with the flu! You turn nauseously green!"

I felt my stomach do a total flip flop, and to be honest, whoever just made that comment was right. I don't sob when I get sick. All I do is chomp on some pills, swallow a whole bottle of water and I'll be good to go for the rest of the day.

But…what in the world? Why? I could feel perspiration on my face. What the hell?

I started panting heavily, even though I wasn't the one that was singing like practically the entire song. All of a sudden, my hands and fingers felt like they were no longer in my control, and my eyes started to drift off into total darkness.

The last thing I felt before realizing what happened were the keys sinking underneath, thanks to the weight of my head.

Under the tumultuous amount of pressure and tragic occurrences that had happened today, I passed out on stage.

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

"What is up with him?" I asked myself as I crossed my legs on the couch, staring hard at the moving image before me.

"What's up with whom?" Gazzy asked, chomping noisily on an apple.

I just shook my head and waved him away, leaving me to my own thoughts. I continued to stare at the screen intensely. Never, in my history of performing with Ari, have I seen him put on a singing act so poorly before.

I would count his first act of "Promise", but…

Meh. It was his first time. I'll cut the kid some slack, I guess.

With nothing better to do, I decided to sweep up the remaining shards of glass from the broken coffee table. Just as my hands had reached over for the broom, Nudge shrieked in dismay.

"What happened?" Gazzy replied, going into his "Ninja mode" (So he describes).

"Ari fainted on stage!"

"What?" Iggy, Ella and I cried anxiously, rushing forward to see the scene unravel before us.

In my mind, I tried to laugh it off.

That's what I do best: The first step was always denial. Was it some joke that Ari was trying to pull on us? That attention-hogging slime ball…

I bet it's a prank. I'm sure it's a prank. Ari's a practical jokester – remember when he replaced the cream in one of the Oreo cookies with toothpaste?

No, hang on.

Here comes the second step, which was confusion. My thoughts didn't make sense to me anymore. Ari's not a practical jokester, that's Gazzy. Ari would be caught dead before he tries to pull a prank on anybody.

The third step was realization.

All this time, I had been trying to deny the fact that he had lost consciousness on stage. But…unfortunately, it was true. My heart started to sink deeper and deeper. The pain that I felt from watching him collapse was unbearable.

The fourth step?

It would be to run.

* * *

_**(Angel's Point of View)**_

The rift was almost coming, signifying that the song was almost over. I was anxious to get off of stage, just for Max's sake. The poor girl has had too much on a Sunday already, which was supposed to be a day of relaxing.

On the other hand, Max got the complete opposite of that.

"When I look at you…" I took this time to glance at Max to make sure she was doing okay, but one look at Max, and I knew something terrible was going to happen…something extremely dreadful.

Max had only begun to play the second-to-last chord of the piece when her head fell against the piano keys, creating a noise that could only be described as "something you would hear in the most classic horror movie."

"Ari!" I screamed, dropping my microphone and rushing beside her. I wrapped my arms around the fainted Max, sobbing furiously. "Ari, are you alright?"

Ms. Ashton, Jack and the rest of the crew gathered on stage. "What happened?" Ms. Ashton raged furiously. "You guys are going to ruin Music Central with extremely disappointing ratings! Thanks to you, I'm not going to get my raise!"

I narrowed my eyes viciously, slapping Ms. Ashton in the face. "You foul, evil and sick woman! How could you worry about television ratings when one of your performers just fainted?"

From afar, I watched as everyone (Fang, Gazzy, Iggy, Ella and Nudge) from the dressing room rushed forward towards us. The audience watched in peril as their beloved artist turned from a genuine pink to pale white.

"What happened?" Ella asked worriedly.

"I don't know!" I replied through hiccupping sobs. "All I knew was…when I turned to look at Ari, he just fainted!"

Everyone stared in shock as I cradled Max in my arms. "Did someone call the ambulance?"

"I'm on it." Nudge replied strongly, but even for someone with such a confident and strong personality like hers, she broke down the moment she tried to dial the first digit to the emergency phone number.

Gazzy yanked the cell phone away from Nudge's shaky and sweaty fingers, and dialled instantly. "Nudge, let's go outside and wait for the ambulance." The two of them agreed, and eventually, they left the stage for the back parking lot.

Since standing around wasn't going to improve Max's state, they helped the crew escort the rest of the audience out into the bustling lobby – and of course, they were the ones in charge of apologizing to the fans. They were voted "Most Charismatic" anyway.

"Oh, Max, please, please, please be all right." I begged quietly, brushing her damp bangs away from her face and pressing my lips lightly against her forehead.

As I looked up, though, I watched as Fang's facial expression set like stone. No smile, no smirk, no unhappiness – it was just…there. Lifeless. Absolutely lifeless.

I got to my feet and brushed dust that had caked my skirt. "Fang?" I asked uncertainly. All he needed was a little push, and he'll show what his heart is persuading him to do. I squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, and headed towards the back stage.

Out of the corner of my eye though, I witnessed it.

Slowly, Fang knelt down to his knees and, rummaging deep into the pockets of his jeans, he pulled out a piece of tissue, folded it until it resembled a small square and started to dab at Max's face.

Warmth and comfort filled my heart instantaneously, and I sighed in relief.

All this time, Fang had been afraid of ruining his public image. I remember…just a year ago, when him and Justin Bieber decided to have a small get together and have coffee in the local coffee shop, the paparazzi made totally false assumptions that Fang and Justin were a "gay couple".

How whack is that?

Everyone was extremely caught up in the story, and during that time, Fang's self-esteem and self-confidence started to spiral downward. Fang had tried desperately to ignore all of the rude remarks made on all of the social networking websites.

And of course, it was difficult.

Who wouldn't be upset if gossip spread through the entire nation (Yes, I mean the entire nation) like wildfire about you?

Instead of letting the flying vegetables and fruit get to him, Fang had started to improve himself. He had kept that optimistic attitude and that empowered him to work harder than ever to improve his voice. As professional as he may have been about the whole ordeal, it was still a hard battle to fight on his own.

It took him about approximately one year to recover from that incident. Gradually, One Winged Angel's popularity started to grow to the multicultural fan base that they garnered today.

But unfortunately, because Fang had overworked himself past his limit, he had strained his vocal chords, and hence, One Winged Angel had to postpone their up-coming album.

Talk about a major script revision…

Knowing Marian Janssen, she didn't want her latest male group to rise to stardom and plummet back down to the rookie stage. So just two weeks after the announcement of One Winged Angel's break, she started to host auditions for the next lead singer in One Winged Angel.

You know how the rest of the story proceeded. Ari passed through the preliminary and final stages, and became a trainee at CME Entertainment.

You also know the entire story of how he got his "girlfriend" Francesca pregnant, and fled to Paris with her. Max, being the kind and obedient daughter that she is, forced herself to step into Ari's shoes for the time being.

And that's how this lovely tangled mess came into place: This splendid love story of how a girl, impersonating as a male, managed to capture the heart of one of the most coveted idol singers to date.

Then, Fang sat down, crossed legged onto the floor and heaved Max onto his lap. I know Fang is often considered "the cool guy" of the group, and he's known for mastering the poker face…but so the saying goes…

Actions speak louder than words.

Suddenly, I watched as Lissa Gorgorvitch, cheese-sauce free with multiple Band-Aids crisscrossing her nose, leaned against the couch with her arms crossed over chest, smirking evilly.

"So it was you…" I said through gritted teeth.

"What did I do?" Lissa asked, pretending to play innocent.

Two could have the opportunity to play at this game, but for me, watching Max get hurt was one thing that I will not stand for. Time to get the more assertive Angel in to action. "You know what you did…" I said, walking furiously towards her.

Lissa laughed bleakly. "Angel, you're such a child. No wonder they call you Angel; you're so naïve." Then, her voice dropped down to nothing more than a whisper. "You can try to find all the evidence that you want, but it'll be no use. You know why?"

I tried not to shudder at the pure evil that was concealed in her voice, but it failed. "What?"

"Let's just say…that I've got a whole team working behind-the-scenes for me. They do my every command, so even if you had found proof, you can put the blame on them. Not me."

I was so ready to punch the crap out of Lissa, but it seemed that she figured out what I had wanted to do. "You want to punch me? Go ahead, but I'll be sure to give you and your brother a nice early birthday surprise this year."

With that, she flicked me away, chuckling heartlessly, and started to walk towards the opposite door towards the back parking lot.

I sank weakly to my knees, feeling hopeless. Great, now only did I ruin the chances of helping Max get her revenge, Lissa would be able to run away, scat-free.

Suddenly, Gazzy came bursting through the door and shouted, "The ambulance's here!"

Without any notice at all (Maybe he's telepathic or he just has insanely good hearing), Fang, carrying Max bridal-style, quickly ran out the open door and helped the surprised paramedics lay Max on a stretcher.

"Oh, Max," I whispered quietly, letting a few tears escape my eyes. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

**YES. That is, in fact, the end of Chapter 15! I hope you enjoyed it! In the meantime, here are my shout-outs!**

**RandomAsRainbows  
JezabelStrike  
Shayna-18  
****IrisHeartx34  
****BlueButterfliesPlayOnMyGuitar  
Lives2fly  
****porcupine451  
storyteller1425  
faxlover0199  
AriBaecker  
i-dont-tell-strangers-my-name  
JealousMindsThinkAlike  
moncheri9  
zombieswillattack (with periods between each word)  
SailByTheStars  
Alice Moon Child  
KC  
maximumcrazy  
alsin  
ReaderGirl15  
jahfreenalam  
Perseus12  
SallSall  
LovinTheSun1996  
Lena  
****Keeptappin92  
****deathtobieber  
****Armadillo  
****HeAt-StRoKe  
****FallenSnowAngel5297  
****lila18  
MrsFangalicious (With a period between Mrs and Fangalicious) **

**Yes, my dears! C: Thanks for reading! I will definitely try to improve with updating more often, so I hope this sufficed (For the time being!). Definitely didn't break my record LOLOL, but it was a close battle indeed. XD**

**Hope you guys had an awesome Easter Break! I know I did! C: Have a fantastic May everyone!**

**Luff,**

**Sam C: **


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey guys! It's Sam C: here! SOO! First off, I'm SO sorry for the late update. :C School has been driving me insane (Once again), and I actually wrote Chapter 16 already, but when I looked through it, I said to myself that OMFG THIS IS TOTAL GARBAGE so I rewrote the entire chapter. Never fear though! I'm back, and ready to roll with this Chapter! I know most of you are pretty much ITCHING to know when Fang is going to find out that Max is actually, in fact, a girl! He will soon enough, haha. C: Don't you worry about it! I hope this twenty eight paged Chapter will suffice! Eep! I hope the final Chapter will be longer than this! Haha! XD**

**Max - WTF.  
Fang - DOUBLE WTF.  
Sam C: - I know! You're such a Romeo, Fang. All the girls will swoon.  
Fang - NO THEY WON'T. DELETE THIS! DELETE THIS RIGHT NOW!  
Sam C: - Now, now, Fang, violent gestures will resolve NOTHING. Believe me, I've tried in the past...  
Angel - I find this Chapter pretty interesting.  
Sam C: - Angel! I knew there was a reason I liked you best!  
Iggy - How come I don't make that many appearances? I'M LIKE ZOMG, THE BEST PART.  
Sam C: - You keep telling yourself that, big boy.  
Gazzy - Lollipop bouquet!  
Sam C: - Alllllrighty then! Let's get on with this!**

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

"No! I refuse to ride in your car." I stated furiously, forming a protective "X" sign in front of my chest with my arms.

Manager Jeb sighed, glancing at his watch periodically. Ahem, when I say 'periodically', I actually mean to say…every fifteen seconds. "Fang, please be reasonable. Time is ticking away, and we have no time to deal with your behaviour right now."

His eyes suddenly flashed darkly, and his voice lowered to nothing more but a sombre whisper. "Don't forget that the person who blacked out isn't just one of your band mates, but he's also my son. One of our ultimate goals as of now is to get Ari to the hospital as soon as possible."

The paramedics finished wheeling Ari into the back of their ambulance and clambered aboard, staring at me and Jeb's argument curiously.

I stood my ground firmly. There is no way (Even if the world were to end right here, right now) that I was going to abandon Ari (Alone) in the back of that ambulance, without a single chaperone. Okay, okay, fine – I'm just slightly older than Ari (Let alone given the right to be called a 'chaperone' for an eighteen-year-old young adult in the first place), but hey – if you had to leave somebody you cared about in the hands of two strangers with tattoos of naked women and criss-crossed bloody axes etched onto their skin, you would be too.

"Have you even seen those guys? First impressions play an important factor for me, and I am not willing to entrust Ari to the care of those two motorcycle gang leaders. Please, Jeb. Let me do what I want." I pleaded, almost willing to go down onto my knees and beg. Yep, if all fails, that was Plan B (Although that would mean ruining my reputation as 'The Nation's Bad Boy'.)

After several moments of hesitation – and impatient honking from the driver in the ambulance – Jeb finally agreed. I almost smiled gratefully at him. "Thank-you so much."

Jeb didn't reply. Just as I was about to turn around and head off, he clasped a heavy hand on my shoulder and squeezed comfortingly, sending a tiny electrical shock through me. "I know you're worried about him, Ari, but please trust me. I'm Ari's father. Nobody knows him better than I do."

"He's a strong kid." Jeb continued. "And trust me, he's sufficed injuries much more worse than this. He's going to come out fine."

I nodded curtly, but those words of well-being and security managed to ease a small amount of the burden off my heart for the moment. I've listened to the paramedics – with their cigarette-smelling breaths – ramble on insincerely, and I've listened to the high-pitched screeches of anxiety from Ari's fans, awaiting him eagerly from the gate outside.

None of them had quite the same effect as Jeb's kind and sympathetic words had.

This was the voice that I wanted to hear, and those were the words I wanted coming out from Jeb's mouth.

Quickly, I jogged towards the ambulance, and one of the paramedics gripped my arm, and pulled me steadily on board. He quickly pulled the doors to a close, and I collapsed tiredly onto a free spot beside the stretcher.

The paramedic snapped an oxygen mask carelessly over Ari's mouth, and I suddenly tensed up. God damn, this was seriously stupid. I had to stop overreacting…

The paramedic with the rough-looking buzz cut (Thank God he wasn't the one with that naked lady imprinted onto his bulging arms) quickly noticed my reflex, and chuckled to himself. "You don't trust me, do you?"

The truth hurts, so they say, but he's probably prone to rejected blind dates due to his unusually large size, so I'm just going to spit it right out.

"No."

His eyes glinted dangerously towards me, and I him. Pitiful…absolutely pitiful. I've seen glares much more violent-looking than this.

Instead of exchanging death glares, I focused on the unconscious Ari, with his hands folded neatly on top of his stomach. With my fingers, I brushed the damp fringe away from his eyes.

Small streaks of black covered his cheeks, and a pang of guilt hit me right in the gut. Was I the one who caused him to cry so much? My fingers started to make their way down to his cheek, and I caressed gently.

I didn't give a crap about the weird and stranger stares the paramedic was shooting me. Who the hell cares about that right now?

The perspiration had almost evaporated (And mostly, it was thanks to my careful sponging of his face previously), but the colour of his face was absolutely unbearable. Sickly white, pale and gaunt; just like a ghost. In turn, his pale complexion caused my stomach to do a total flip-flop. Uh oh, upset stomach…yesterday's macaroni and cheese might be _coming_ back up…

Buzz-Cut Bob started to wave a brown paper bag in front of me gingerly. "What's this for?" I asked, taking it from his clutches, causing our hands to collide with each other's.

"Eep!" He screeched, grabbing a nearby miniature bottle of hand sanitizer and squeezed and a considerably large amount of it onto the palm of his hand.

Uh, uh, uh…awkward moment…awkward moment…

Buzz-Cut Bob is fearless enough to let dangerous toxins enter his system and have a tattoo artist painfully draw on his skin, but is absolutely terrified of germs and bacteria?

It's a sign…the apocalypse is coming.

I'm kidding – what do you take me for? Zeus?

"Thank-you for implying that I am unsanitary and covered in bacteria from head to toe," I said dryly, signifying to his lovely gesture that pronounced him a clean freak. "I don't suppose you have a schedule for using the bathroom, right?"

Buzz-Cut Bob scoffed, waving my comment away. "It's called trying to be a good paramedic, and taking care of not only one, but two, patients."

Unmistakably, I started to finger the silver band that was currently wrapped around my ring finger on my left hand. The ring wasn't particularly special with forty-five karats or something, but it did hold a very important place in my heart.

It was the ring I had bought the first time I ran away from home, celebrating "my freedom."

A quote had also been elegantly carved into the metal in cursive writing. I removed the ring and examined the words, smirking slightly after reading the entire statement.

"Perfect for you, Ari," I said softly as I lifted one of his hands and slid the silver band onto his own ring finger. My heart gave a small lurch. It reminded me so much of how fiancés and fiancées would exchange rings at their own wedding ceremony.

_Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. Fang Nicholas Robertson, don't you even dare think about things like that. Those are bad, bad thoughts, my man. Bad, bad thoughts._

Instead, I just intertwined my fingers around Ari's, and let his clammy palm dangle limply in mine. His hand was icy cold, but for that moment, getting freezing hands was one of the things I was willing to comply.

I looked up from my mental rant to catch a glimpse of Buzz-Cut Bob staring at me incredulously. For the next agonizing five minutes, I observed the way Buzz-Cut Bob would avert his gaze constantly from me, to Ari and vice versa.

And he did it **NON-STOP**. If he continued to wring his head from side to side, it's going to pop out. It was like watching some demented, demonic and psychopathic puppet (Or ventriloquist dummy, I don't really care, take your pick) observe his next victims before picking up the nearest inanimate object (In this case, it would be a pen) and stabbing it into one of our jugular arteries.

"What do you want?" I asked, my curiosity finally getting the best of me. "If you want an autograph, you could just ask. If you want one from Ari, though, I'm sorry to say that he's not available."

"What do you take me for, one of your fan girls?" Buzz-Cut Bob replied with the same sarcasm. "I'm for sure not, but my nieces are. I'm just curious to know…"

"Please go on."

"Are you two stupid lovesick idiots dating?" He blurted out before he could think through his words carefully.

Oh, my God. With my other free hand, I face-palmed myself, shaking my head disappointedly.

See? This is one of the things that I absolutely detest about being an idol singer. Since you're so loved and cherished, you'll obviously have a minority of haters. And of course, the occupation of your haters is to ruin your lives so miserably that they drive you to the brink of suicide.

Believe me, it's happened before.

See, the cycle of a hater group goes like this: Rumours are formed by stupid people, rumours are spread by the same group of idiotic twats, rumours are heard by other people who lack common sense, and since the paparazzi are always on the look-out for hot tips, they publicize these rumours through writing pieces they call "masterpieces of literature."

Please – didn't they ever study Sylvia Plath while trying to obtain a degree in journalism? Or in their case – Paparazzism?

Yes, I understand – it's not a word. I don't give a flying fuck. Sue me, if you will.

Yep, those were the good ol' days of 2009 when I went out for coffee with Justin Bieber. I may have the ability to remove cuts, bruises and blemishes, but I'm still no Superman. It took me approximately a full year to recover from that horrible incident, and ugh, thinking about it already sends chills down my spine.

I've learned my lesson, and I'll make sure to never tread on the tails of the Beavers again.

"Do you even have any evidence that lead to the conclusion that we're both gay?" I chose my words carefully, but deep down; I knew that there was plenty of evidence to go around the table…

Ugh, curse you, Heart-Reacting-Fang.

"I may not be pretty, but I judge based on what I see. I'll eat myself if you can find a smarter mind than me." Buzz-Cut Bob replied simply as the driver up front started to snort (Like a pig). I scoffed, wondering how many times he re-read the first Harry Potter book in the series.

"You took that line from Harry Potter…and you're the one calling me stupid. Why don't you think of something – oh, I don't know – creatively original and witty to come back with before you plagiarize." I said.

"I'm not stupid! If I am 'this stupid'," Insert the usage of pinching fingers right there. "Then, I would've never been able to go to university and practice to become a paramedic. If I wasn't a paramedic, then I wouldn't be able to come to Music Central today to save this mindlessly-weak imbecile."

My eyes narrowed furiously. At the last word, I immediately picked up a nearby bio hazardous weapon that could be used to threaten him. Call me evil/a dangerous psychopath – I'll take it easily, but I will not stand for anybody who insults Ari the way he did.

Okaaay, so I'm exaggerating. I didn't pick up the T-Virus (Besides, the T-Virus only exists in Raccoon City – some fictional place that [sadly] does not exist in the United States of America), nor did I attach a spray bottle of pepper spray onto my belt buckle.

It was just a simple-looking fork, with a complex-looking gray mould growing on _**SOMETHING**_ that looked suspiciously like tomato sauce had settled on the fork for perhaps a month.

I will never comprehend how the fork got there and had hid itself from view, but I definitely do not want to be the first one to find out.

The paramedic seemed to be uninterested in the weapon I picked up. Damn, I knew I had to use something else, but unfortunately, every single supply was locked safely in all sorts of complex-looking containers.

"Look, look! You haven't let go of his hand since you climbed aboard, AND to add that you just gave him your class ring!" The paramedic cried triumphantly, pointing at our entwined hands.

I nearly flew off my seat in shock. "Class ring? You have got to be kidding me…" Not to worry, my friends – I tend to regain my composure quite quickly.

"You can deny it, but I hold true to what I say. You two are in love, but to be honest…" He shot Ari a withering look, and I immediately picked up the fork in my hands. Again.

Yeah, I've got to find better items to use instead of household items.

"I have no idea how a person like you could seriously be attracted to him. He doesn't give off the essence of a man, at all." With a quick glance at me, he hastily went back to organizing his tools in the first aid kid.

_Since you did come in a jiffy when we needed you, Mr. Paramedic, I'll stay polite until now. But if I hear one more negative peep from you about Ari, Ari's face or anything regarding him, I will shoot daggers into the back of your head, personally stuff that mould into your mouth and rip you apart with my teeth…_I said, using all of my brain capacity to send him that mental message (Which, of course, is quite idiotic since I'm not telepathic).

The ambulance suddenly halted to a suspiciously hasty stop, and once again, I was flung from my seat due to the intense inertia (Oh my, I'm starting to bore you with Physics).

"What happened!" I yelled from my seat as a strange, yet familiar ringing sounded.

"I don't know!" Buzz-Cut Bob replied, covering his ears with his hands. Standing up, he quickly lumbered near the front of the ambulance.

"Get out of here! You're blocking my vision! I can't see my blind spots if you keep your fat head here!" His partner snapped.

"My head is fat because of my thick skull!"

"Oh, so now you're admitting that you're as idiotic as a sixteen-year-old nitwit?"

"What do you mean 'admitting that I'm idiotic'? My thick skull means I'm less prone to concussions!"

Oh, my God, they're bickering like seven-year-olds…and they're grown men too. I mean, I can understand young adults arguing, but…listening to thirty-something year olds squabbling like an old married couple…

No, I'm so sorry. The visual image is just so, so wrong.

"I suggest you consult your medical journals to – "

"Can't you two shut up for a second!" I shouted from the back, earning pure looks of hatred from them. Meh – I don't really care anyway…not like they actually saved Ari from a brutal heart attack or…or…or…some fatal grizzly bear battle.

I got to my feet and peered out the window, staring in horror at what had caused all of the commotion in the traffic nearby.

We were just getting onto the bridge – perhaps just a mile and a half away from the hospital, when one of the sides was completely demolished.

Besides the wreckage of the bridge, there was a massive collision between a total of seven cars (With a Honda Civic that totally flipped over)…but that wasn't the thing that caught my attention for the time being.

From the sudden bubbles that had flared up in the smooth, dark blue waters below us, it was a clear sign that several automobiles had accidentally swerved off the road and plunged deep into the river. The splashes were evident, heard distinctly amidst the screams outside us.

"Oh…my God," Buzz-Cut Bob said in horror, clamping a hand over his mouth.

Time seemed to have stopped for those few seconds…and all I could do was helplessly watch as the bystanders screamed in shock.

Several people started to rush out of their cars, sprinting for the injured bridge. I groaned to myself, feeling slightly sick to my stomach. No, no – this couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening.

"Someone call for the paramedics! Does anybody have a cellphone?"

"Here! Call immediately! No, hang on, there's an ambulance right there!"

Peering out the window once more, I caught sight of several bystanders pointing at our vehicle. My stomach gave a horrible lurch, but the sound of sirens blared loudly from the opposite direction, and snapped my attention towards the whole emergency crew, that had jumped out of their vehicles and rushed to the horrid sight.

I watched carefully as sweat trickled from Buzz-Cut Bob's forehead. "Not only is Los Angeles low on medical supplies, it looks as if they're going to require us too." He slowly averted his gaze to me, and I stared at him solemnly.

A small jerk on my shirt caused our stares to break off, and I knelt down to my knees quickly, grasping for Ari's hand. Despite the unbelievably humid weather in Los Angeles, his hand was abnormally freezing. "What is it, Ari?" I whispered.

His hand started to touch the edge of his oxygen mask weakly, and I lifted it off. "You've got to let them use this ambulance."

Ari's words somehow caused me to jerk back in surprise. "Why? You're also one of the patients that require medical attention as soon as possible."

"Don't worry about me. I'll be alright." He wheezed, trying his hardest to comfort me. I'm deeply apologetic…for his attempts are failing right now.

"No, you won't! How can you say something like that!" I cried furiously. Never in my life have I wanted to knock Ari out (Not those times when we accidentally kissed, or when he started to blab random crap on a radio show), 'cause then, he'd be able to stay where he was: In an ambulance, unconscious and not arguing with me.

I hate bickering with him. I absolutely detested it, but somehow, his words just got to me, and I continued to take note of what he had to say.

"Fang, listen to me," Ari`s voice was pleading, and I`m sure my eyes WEREN`T deceiving me, because his normally warm chocolate-brown eyes started to water and a few salty tears trickled from them. "I know my health condition isn't looking too brightly right now…"

"But look out there and all of those people…please take a good look and compare me to them; what's more important? Who's more important? A measly idol singer? Or the lives of families that could be drowning in the river right now?"

With all the strength he could muster, he reached out once again for my hand. For a moment there, I had wanted to whip it away from him, and just clamp my hands over my ears to silence the world so nothing more could be said or done.

But I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"Fang, people out there require help. I get that you're worried about me, but please, don't overreact to the point that you lose your common sense." Ari whispered, slipping in and out of consciousness.

I sighed half-heartedly, but eventually, I nodded. Why did I give in? In my brain, I actually didn't know the answer to that question, but there was a nagging itch in the bottom of my heart that told me I knew what that response was…but I refused to say it.

"How will I get you there?"

"You'll find a way." For once in what seemed like an eternity, Ari truly smiled, with his shining, glinting teeth and all. He didn't even have the energy to keep his hand in mine, so I rested it peacefully on top of his heaving stomach.

"How do you know?" I challenged. I was fighting a losing battle, and I was ready to throw in the red flag, but all I truly needed was just that last push of encouragement to believe that the chaos created…will eventually find its way to peace.

"I trust you well enough to know."

* * *

For the next five minutes, I started to brainstorm.

_Alright, Fang, _I thought to myself, _you've only got ten minutes to think of a plan. Use the time wisely, 'cause when it's over, it's truly over. Gone forever._

I seated myself back onto the side of the stretcher, rubbing my temples for a solution. With the back door opened, the smell of flames and smoke entered my nose, causing slight dizziness.

"Hey kid," Buzz-Cut Bob greeted, returning from the devastating scene, his face sheen of shiny sweat.

I nodded curtly. "How is the rescue mission going?"

His face turned – if it was even possible – even grayer, and my heart started to sink. "We're thankful we managed to rescue the passengers. We're trying to get our most urgent and most severely-injured patients onto the ambulances straight away."

Suddenly, his eyes hardened and I was able to decipher the message he was enclosing in them with ease. "I'm not trying to put pressure on you, kid, but we're in desperate need of this vehicle."

"Give me five more minutes," I begged desperately. "I'm sure I can think of a solution before then."

Buzz-Cut Bob nodded curtly. "Five minutes."

Unfortunately for me, two and a half minutes already went by, and my mind was just as empty as it was when it had started. God, I used to think things were so simple. I could compose hit singles without any sort of difficulty, and math problems would be no sweat.

Why couldn't things be like this right now?

In dire moments of stress, I took one long look at Ari, who had drifted back into unconsciousness. "Give me a hint. Anything…anything at all…"

_Cling! Cling! Cling! Cling!_

The constant annoying clinging from a toddler's tricycle put my brain on red-alert. As I poked my head out from the back of the ambulance, I watched as the chubby girl – smiling cheerfully, clad in protective bicycling equipment – rushed down the sidewalk.

The rest of her family started to follow, one by one. The mother and father, each equipped with a half-drunken bottle of Gatorade, observed the congested street carefully, refusing to let their daughter cross the dangerously cramped road.

Her (Presumably) older brother swerved through the sidewalks like wildfire, earning disapproving gazes from the white-haired man who was trying to push his wheelchair-confined wife up the hilly road.

Somehow, the light bulb that never flickered before…turned on brightly.

Have wheels…_**will travel**_.

I grimaced as I jumped out of the back of the vehicle, and started to sprint towards the family who were getting ready to trek back up the hill via the dangerous conditions.

I knew this wasn't the most convenient way to travel, nor was it the safest.

But what have I got to lose? A few bruises here and there, maybe some cuts…but the most important thing was to get Ari to the hospital as soon as possible.

* * *

After a few minutes of negotiating, it was finally agreed.

As Buzz-Cut Bob and his partner helped me ease Ari out of the stretcher and into the tiny wicker basket attached to the rubber handlebars. As I strapped the navy-blue helmet on (And helped Ari with his pink one), Buzz-Cut Bob shot me a definite thumbs-up.

"Good luck, kid. I'm sorry I doubted you before." He mumbled as I kicked the silver kickstand upwards. I seated myself comfortably on the saddle.

I smirked back. "Don't worry about it. I need to apologize for my behaviour as well."

He placed a porky hand onto my shoulder as his partner lifted up the yellow caution tape that had weaved itself across the deserted bridge, closing the road off (With the exception of the collided automobiles, and the uncountable number of fire engines, police cruisers and ambulances).

"You know, at first, my first impression of you wasn't all too charming. My nieces might be huge fans of yours, but you give off the aura of a rude, disrespectful egomaniac."

I snickered as I look into his eyes. "I kind of expected that. Generally, I'm not that type of person to act all respectful. I speak with my heart."

"Indeed you did," Buzz-Cut Bob said, nodding in agreement. "Your rudeness smartened over the ride to the hospital."

"But the important thing is…" I began as the first few beads of sweat already started to trickle their way down my forehead. Oh Mister Sun, Sun, Mister Golden Sun, please put your dangerous UV rays away or hide yourself behind a white puffy cloud. It would certainly help me quite a bit. "Did I manage to prove you wrong?"

"You did." Buzz-Cut Bob grinned, literally beaming down on me. "From the way you showed your kind and caring nature to him, to the worry that was masked expertly in your voice as well as your facial expression and to the moments of lost hope when things seemed to be misplaced and chaotic…and you managed to display your courage."

As his compliments continued to shower me one by one, my hand bumped against the silver band that was now wrapped around Ari's ring finger. Looking at the quote and listening to the positive remarks made by Buzz-Cut Bob…that seemed to give me that extra bravery and self-confidence that I would be able to accomplish this.

"Thank-you so much," I said, unsure of whom I was addressing. But without saying another word, I released the hand breaks, situated my feet on top of the black pedals, and let the dust-covered wheels glide me down the empty bridge.

* * *

Over time, the nauseous gases of flames and smoke died down, and replaced the air with a refreshingly cool ocean breeze. Totally expected – and I love it all the same.

With the bridge far behind me, I would've estimated that I only had another half mile to go. Perfect – and in my defence, I'm NOT being sarcastic.

Oh, dear me, I've grown to become more optimistic now…

Then again, whoever said that optimism was a horrible thing to experience?

As positive as my outlook was, I had to unfortunately admit that my legs were starting to give way. Oh, sure, most of the road was smooth pavement, with the (very, very, very) occasional vandalized manhole cover or littered area with pieces of garbage…

But I said most, didn't I? This meant that there was a minority of the road where I had to pedal (With difficulty, mind you) uphill. Besides, in the sweltering heat with nothing but half a bottle of Gatorade left (With red lipstick stamped onto the opening), it could get a little…

Tiring…

After about half an hour of pedalling, I finally reached a small resting area for cyclists. The sun, shining overhead, blinded my slightly obstructed vision.

I raised a hand to block the sunshine, and to be honest, I was already starting to get slightly irritable.

"Whoa," I exclaimed, completely flabbergast at the beautiful scenery before me. For some reason, the view before me had miraculously etched itself into my brain. Yeah, the brain is a funny thing…

In the end, though, it was clear that there was no way that I was ever going to forget this.

The navy-blue ocean was practically glimmering on the surface, with the familiar clicking of dolphins jumping and splashing playfully from afar.

I glanced down at Ari, nestled peacefully in the basket.

_Mental note: Once Ari has recovered from his trauma, take him here to see the scenery._

Fifteen minutes later, my shirt was completely soaked in sweat, and for some strange reason, with each pedal, it was getting increasingly difficult to breathe. I was almost hyperventilating by the time I reached

_No time to be a wuss, Fang –you can't stop now. You're half-way there…half-way…half-way…_

It was then when I heard it. It was the familiar sound of a silver whistle blowing urgently, and I looked up with my burning eyes to see the man, clad in his blue uniform, beer belly and Hitler-like moustache, running towards me.

At the same time, though, I saw my final destination. The hospital, with its glinting windows, seemed to beckon me better than the sunshine did.

_Heh, _I snickered to myself. If only Ari were conscious, God, I could already hear the annoyance in his voice, as well as the rude (Yet hilarious – you couldn't deny that) remarks that he would've made.

_His man breasts would put Mrs. Gorgorvitch's plastic chest to shame – isn't that just as vile as dried up fondant on a cake?_

_Yes, I do mean the ones on Cake Boss. _

_Yes, I don't like that show._

_What more do you want, you greedy, selfish, obnoxious dick! Give me the remote! I need to watch my own shows on Animal Planet! _

I chuckled slightly at the thought, but it wasn't long before I felt the bicycle tip over. He had just neared us when I felt my eyelids start to droop. Oh, my God – not now, please not now.

"Are you alright?" He exclaimed, trying to heave me onto my feet.

Nope, I couldn't do it. Too tired – don't call me a weakling please. You'd be surprised at how agonizingly painful it is to bike while trying to keep your balance with a hundred something pound person (I'm actually surprised at how I'm unaware of how much Ari weighs, but he weighs lighter than Gazzy, I can tell you that) in the front, obstructing your vision with dangling legs and head.

"Get…him…to…hospital…" I panted heavily before blacking out into total darkness.

Today was a good, good day…a good, good day indeed.

Psh – of course it wasn't. Who wants two unconscious people in the same day?

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

You know what the best part of blacking out is?

…

Yeah, I got nothing.

Not only are you totally clueless in the aftermath of your black out, but before that, yours truly probably did some incredibly stupid and 'embarrassing-like-when-my-pants-fell-off-in-class-revealing-a-hideous-pair-of-Hello-Kitty-underwear' type of things.

Then again…one of the questions I ask myself after a highly awkward moment is: Will people remember that a year later?

Psh – who am I kidding?

Of course they will. It's Los Angeles. It's the freaking UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, FOR A LACK OF A BETTER TERM.

It's the occupation of an Internet user to stalk their betrothed idols on Google, and set their ultimate goal, which is (Of course) to ruin and torture our lives to the point of committing suicide.

As I started to squirm around my extremely cramped cot (With the equally uncomfortable and itchy-as-a-head-full-of-lice blanket), my senses started to come back to me.

For one, either a badly-tuned ninety-forty radio was blasting right beside my bed, or my overly damaged ears could not get themselves accustomed to bellowing shouts, but SOMEBODY was calling my name.

I could hear it, but…ah, the comfort of having an extremely warm bed! When the season turns chilly, and you've just started to stir in your sleep, you'll know what I'm talking about. It's TOTAL COMFORT – and was I going to get up?

Nope.

The badly-tuned radio started to adjust on its own, and despite the clearer voices, I was NOT ready to wake up. Not yet, anyway.

In annoyance, I started to wave my hand around in the air just for the sake of it, and (As miraculous as a half-asleep Maximum Ride was) whacked something that also emitted a strange combination of swear words in the process.

"Max, wake up, I don't have much time before the rest of them come back. It took so much persuasion to get them to leave and eat pretty much two of everything on the hospital menu. If you don't wake up, I'm going to end up bankrupt. Wake up before I need to result to drastic measures and splash Coke in your face." The voice grumbled, drumming its impatient fingers against the wooden table.

I know, for sure, that I smirked in my sleep. Seriously, though, if "The Voice" is indeed itching to grab the nearest can of soda and splash it against my face, by all means, please go ahead – I'm not afraid of a beverage.

If I was, then I shouldn't even be given the right to live (Since, y'know, most of the body of made up of liquid, so…yeah, I'm just going to stop talking right now before I embarrass myself with my lack of knowledge in Biology).

"Go ahead," I slurred, half-asleep and half-awake. "I love Coke anyway…I sprayed it on Ari once...definitely makes a nice perfume."

"You leave me no choice," The voice, now crystal clear, sighed. Reaching into something, he rustled for a moment before withdrawing his hand from the bag, pulling out a black container.

Hang on – I could recognize that voice any day. UGH, Maximum Ride, why are you THIS NAIVE!

This is not a time for joking...not at all. Of course soda pop doesn't make a good perfume! It smells horrid, it drenches your hair and clothes (In my case, it should be an overly-large hospital gown) and causes it to stick.

Just before the familiar click of the can could be sounded, I bolted straight up. Blood started to rush from the lower part of my body back up to my brain, resulting in my head continually spinning dizzily. Erk – I feel like I'm a boat (And I'm not referring to the song).

"Yo, what's up?" I greeted tiredly, rubbing my bleary eyes.

"I'm glad to see you awake, Max." Dad said, half of the worry wiped away from his expression. The other half...well...let's just say that it's still covered in worry lines and wrinkles. "Feeling any better now?"

"Pretty much good as new," I replied, listening to the satisfying crack in my back that always made Dad flinch in response. Glancing around the hospital room, however, I just realized how many 'Get Well Soon!' greeting cards, and – get this – a lollipop bouquet.

"Uh – how long did I pass out for?" I asked uncertainly, glancing down at my lovely attire. Yup, pink unicorns were adorned all over my gown. I'm sure Cat had something to do with this…I'm absolutely positive.

Throat feeling slightly parched, I reached over to the bedside table and clamped my hands on the icy-cold water bottle. Ah, the sudden rush of having a cold, tasteless liquid in your mouth...I could just savour every swallow...

"Oh, I don't know – a day?"

And spit out approximately a cup of our most precious resource a millisecond later, drenching my already-irritable father in the process.

"Thank-you, Max," Dad replied in a monotone voice, reaching for a nearby damp towel. "I just took a shower at home, thank-you very much for your concern."

"Are you for real, Dad? One full day?" I asked him, my tone disbelieving.

Dad started to nod solemnly, and then reached over to feel my forehead with his palm. "Are you feeling any better now?"

In turn, I nodded glumly, sinking back into the comfort of my white pillows. "I can't believe this. How could this have happened?"

"I don't know, either," Dad admitted, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. "Did you get last-minute butterflies that interfered with your performance? Or were you feeling sick from the moment you woke up?"

I shook my head, rolling my eyes at him. "Dad, I've performed so many times in the past. I don't think I'll get last-minute butterflies." My thoughts, however, flickered back to the kiss scene between Fang and Lissa...

And the grip on my comforter tightened by a considerable amount. Dad obviously noticed, because he started to pat my fist gently. "Is there something you'd like to tell me, Max?"

"That sickening son of a – " I spat, making a violent gesture in the air.

"What did you say?" Dad asked. Ugh, here it comes: My harsh and strict punishment for saying such vulgarities and doing such rude gestures (Well, I am obligated to do so, since I am still 'a guy').

His tone, however, was gentle. It wasn't questioning, wasn't curious, wasn't severe, wasn't punishing...not – anything bad, technically speaking.

Wow, I faint, recover greatly from sleep, and experience a totally different world – not that it's a bad thing.

Yup, I could definitely get used to things like this –

**BAM!**

My private hospital room door swung open with a full bang, causing both Dad and I to jump. Needless to say, I was for certain it was one of my band mates.

No, I'm wrong –make that _**TWO**_ of my band mates.

"Ari! You're finally awake!" Gazzy squealed excitedly, dropping all of his half-eaten food items onto my bed while Iggy sauntered in, a really unreadable expression on his face.

I wonder what's eating him…

"Oh, Gazzy, is this all for me? Why, I had no idea the cafeteria was serving..." I raised the cup of strawberry yogurt, sniffing it gingerly. It smells...like a health food item, but spoiled. Hence, I call this nasty concoction 'spoiled yogurt'.

"Of course it's not ALL for you, silly Ari! Half of it is for Manager Jeb too." Gazzy said cheerfully, slapping the back of my head playfully.

"Tch! That actually hurt!" I complained, hitting him just as hard on the arm. Just then, both Iggy and my eyes locked gazes, but for some strange reason, there was no warmth in them at all.

It was like staring into the ocean when it's midnight, and obviously, vision was deemed zero when you try to stare out into total darkness.

"Hey Iggy," I greeted, giving him a hearty wave.

Okay…something is **DEFINITELY** really wrong here. Instead of greeting me back, all he did was avert his eyes so he could stare at the floor.

I don't intend to be a boastful person, but I must state the obvious: I don't consider myself a particularly 'pretty sight' to look at, but I'm sure as hell that I look better than pastel-green floors, right?

Am I right, or am I wrong?

Of course I'm right! No, I'm kidding, but…

I bit my bottom lip worriedly, and shot Dad a questioning glance. Dad took one quick scan at the depressingly sad Iggy, and back at me. "I have no clue" was the only sentence that he mouthed to me.

I leaned back against my fluffy pillows. Ugh, a fresh surge of blood was pounding in my ears again. It did one good thing though: It drowned out Gazzy's annoying munching of tortilla chips.

Great – I totally felt like Sleeping Beauty for a moment, but instead of waking up to a 'gorgeous prince' (I really don't understand Aurora's taste in men – How did she end up with that flirt who had distaste for her when she was just born?), I find a cute-looking troll with an appetite to bloat a Tyrannosaur, a sad-looking and depressed dwarf (Not implying anything here) and a kinder father who is (According to my suspicions) dating a messed up Queen.

This world of fairy tales isn't really working in my favour…

And whatever in the world happened to that sickening bas – I mean, Fang? Oh, I'm not curious at all. Nope, definitely not…

The hospital door swung open again, and my head filled with an infinite amount of insults snapped up.

Yes, I was actually expecting Fang to burst in and start scolding the crap out of me for fainting on stage, and making headlines of entertainment tabloids on newsstands in the country…

In that case, I would fight fire with fire. Or in our case, speech with speech and scare him all the way up to Canada so he could hide in an abandoned igloo.

But as much as I had hoped for it to be him so I could bombard him with my questions, it was just my way-too-cheerful doctor, who had a clipboard clutched in her grasp, her blonde braid bouncing lightly against her shoulder.

You know what's even more ridiculous? It's the fact that even her _**HAIR**_ looks cheerful. I think I need my daily dose of glum for a change – or just a quick glance at the disappeared Fang, and I will recover immediately.

I think I'm going to call her Doctor Happy, just for the sake for it.

"Hello, Ari! I'm Doctor Joy." She greeted – yes, you guessed it – delightedly.

Her last name seems self-explanatory. Yup, there's no need for a nickname. Still, you couldn't help but feel protected with her presence around. Doctor Happy just gives off the aura of a "guardian angel", you know?

"Hi."

"Why, aren't we feeling better today? At least you're fully awake and speaking." Doctor Happy said, making a notation with her pen on her clipboard. "You were unconscious for a full day!"

Oh, my God, Doctor Happy is treating me like a **CHILD**. Maybe it's from my pretty unicorn hospital robes? I don't know. I don't think I look that young, do I?

That would be terrible.

"I know," I murmured irritably, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "So Doc, have you discovered the cause behind my fainting spell?"

Doctor Happy gasped in horror, dropping her clipboard onto the ground. "You have fainting spells! Your father never informed me of them! Oh no, oh no, oh no, I'm not fulfilling my duties!"

I sighed, giving Dad a withering look. "So you hired overreacting Doctor Happy to watch over me? Thanks a lot, Dad."

"Now, now, Max, be patient." He mouthed back, placing a finger to his lips to shush me. I rolled my eyes, trying to gather all of the remaining respect I had for this psycho. She can be a heart surgeon, brain surgeon, cancer researcher and may have graduated from med school with the highest grades – I don't care.

She's crazy.

"He's fine, Doctor Joy. You don't have to worry about him at all." A rough, tired but amused voice spoke from behind trembling Doctor Happy.

I'd recognize that voice any day, and boy oh boy, did listening to his voice perk my spirits up.

Peeking from behind Doctor Happy, I felt my heart lighten considerably as I caught sight of his raven-black hair, and of course, his full black – wait a second; I'm supposed to be angry with him, aren't I?

Yes, him – the asshole. Then again, if my memories haven't been lost while I was in my state of unconsciousness, I remember there was something he promised me…

Hmm…

Yeah, I have no clue. Fang noticed my noticeable staring, and smirked slightly, giving a small wave. "I'm glad to see you're awake now, Snow White. Did your Prince come to the rescue and plant the magical kiss on you?"

Thank God I'm given the ability to mask my blushes; otherwise, I won't comprehend how I managed to survive the roller coaster of life.

Philosophical Max in the making?

Nope, it would never exist (Except for that one second – **NO TORMENTING ME**).

I was sure I turned the colour of a really, really ripe tomato (With the heat radiating off my cheeks brightly). I had to look down; or else I was NEVER going to live this moment down.

"Yeah, yeah, smart alec," I muttered, rolling my eyes before looking back up again.

**WHOA, **_**WHAT THE HELL?**_

"What happened to your face!" I exclaimed suddenly, pointing furiously (And rudely; yes, I know it's impolite to point, but since it's Fang…meh) at the white bandage wrapped neatly around Fang's forehead.

"What do you mean?" Fang asked, pretending to play stupid.

"You **KNOW** what I mean! It's sticking out like a freaking sore thumb!" I yelled angrily. "And don't act so god damn senseless! You're not fit for that game!"

"Oh, heh, that," Fang muttered, giving off disgruntled chuckle while rubbing his forehead delicately. "Uh, yeah, I…um…"

"You?" I asked uncertainly. Patience is definitely not one of my virtues. I'm demanding an answer right now, or so help me I'm going to wrench my boy cut hair out.

"He walked into a pole." Iggy finished dully. "Fang got a new pole installed in his room, used for pole dancing purposes."

Wait, did I hear that correctly? As much as I wanted to laugh, "Fang" and "pole dancing" just don't mix. It's…just…wrong. Nope, not sexy, not hot; it's WRONG. It's like trying to put chocolate doughnuts with a savoury breakfast sandwich.

"Thank-you, Iggy, for the…inaccurate description," Fang said icily, practically shooting daggers through him. "You know, if you were to make up excuses for others, at least consult me before telling lies."

"You're so very welcome, Fang," Iggy spat with the same amount of venom in his voice. "Well, I'm not trying to be a tattle tale, but needless to say, I wasn't too surprised when I found that video camera in your room. Was it for your own pleasure to film yourself with your arms flailing?"

Oh, my God, what the hell happened between them? One day, they were best buddies. The next day, they're like total polar opposites that seem to be amused while poking fun at each other.

Doctor Happy seemed to remain calm and collected whilst the small skirmish of speech occurred between the two, 'mmm'-ing and 'ah'-ing constantly.

"Well, Ari, it looks like everything's in order. We'll be asking you to come back tomorrow, though, so we can go through your test results with you."

Test results? Uh oh; it definitely didn't sound too good.

"Do you know the reason why I fainted though?" I asked as I swung my legs over the bed and into a pair of scuffed sneakers that Dad brought from the villa. My, my, Dad, I just love you. "I mean, was it over exhaustion or – "

"There was gamma hydroxybutyric acid found in your blood," Doctor Happy said simply, looking up at me.

Scientific names just mean "blah, blah, blah" to me.

"Come again?"

"Date rape," She explained.

"You can't be serious." I groaned, rolling my eyes. Dad handed me a duffel bag filled with casual clothing to change into. "Date rape? How is that even possible? I mean, I don't even – "

Doctor Happy only shrugged. "I'm not sure, Ari, but we definitely don't want the same incident to occur again." Then, her eyes sharpened intensely, and even I – one who doesn't get terrified often – started to shiver slightly.

"Please watch yourself from now on, and be careful. We wouldn't want to lose you."

* * *

_**(Lissa's Point of View)**_

"You are useless!" I shrieked in disdain, giving Dylan a good slap on the cheek. Ugh, and here he is, shooting a death glare at me while having his hand clasped around his swollen cheek. "I paid you to cause major damage and congestion on the street! Not some measly little overcrowding that would be cleared in an hour!"

"Excuse me for trying to satisfy your commands while trying to keep the rest of Los Angeles safe. My friends weren't obliged to help, y'know. I don't want to see them get injured in the process of trying to harm 'that stupid slut'. I'm really starting to wonder why I'm still working for you," Dylan growled, pulling the blanket over his head.

"You'll continue to do so," I snarled. "Otherwise, you aren't going to get any of this anymore." I gestured towards my fabulous body shape. I sighed amorously at my reflection, tucking a piece of red hair behind my ear.

"Underneath all that fat? You should be pleased that I'm the only one who's showering you with all this attention."

Turning back, the sight of the lazy slime ball Dylan (As well as his extremely rude remark!) made me super angry again. Not only was I furious with Dylan, I could NOT believe that Fang – my gorgeous Prince Charming – would actually have the nerve to bike that bitch there!

First of all, I should be the one that Fang delivers to the hospital! Second of all…well…isn't one thing already good enough?

I drummed my fingers impatiently against my make-up counter. "I need to finalize one more plan, and this time, she's not going to come back alive."

"What now?" Dylan asked grumpily. "If it's anything just as crazy as this time, count me out."

"Don't be ridiculous; of course it's not going to be as dramatic as today." I snapped. As I started to pace the hotel room floor, however, the plan started to slowly weave itself together in my head. I smiled evilly at my reflection, and then back at Dylan.

"This plan is NOT going to fail." I declared, smirking while grabbing a nearby cigarette and lighting it with Dylan's lighter. I inhaled the lovely smoke, smiling gleefully.

Oh, like you've never seen a girl smoke a cigarette before!

"What are you going to do then?"

"No matter what, I will make sure that my wonderful product will obliterate that slut from the face of this Earth." I said, ignoring his question. "It's going to be the first time and the last time she ever messed with Lissa F. Gorgorvitch."

"F? Meaning F as in f – " Dylan's such a god damn pervert. Why did I even hire him in the first place? Oh, right, 'cause he was the only good-looking one in the whole bunch.

"Don't move too fast yet, big boy." I warned. "I've just started to get ambitious. We're going need plenty of time to pull this one off."

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

Just as the car pulled into the driveway, I suddenly woke up from my small nap, and groaned in distaste. It was time to deal with reality again.

From the rear view mirror, I could notice Ari continually staring at me curiously from the corner of my eyes while Gazzy and the pre-menstrual freak jumped out from the back seat. "What do you want?" I asked grouchily, refusing to look at him.

"Time to watch Arthur, I can't miss this episode!" I heard Gazzy cry from outside, with Iggy following in suit, glaring intensely at the ground before him.

Ugh, looking at Iggy made me want to vomit. For the time being, anyway…

I was already in an extremely bad mood from Iggy's sudden bitchy mood swing and dripping-in-pure-sarcasm comments, so I wasn't exactly in the correct temperament to deal with the strange oddball (Namely, Ari).

"Tell me what happened to your forehead." He demanded.

"No." I replied, feeling my heart sink deeper in my chest.

"…" I don't think I hurt him, did I? I mean, it's not like…it's anything to worry about…

But seeing the offended expression on Ari's face, it confirmed my suspicions. _Great going, Fang, you just injured him again._

"Guys, it's time to get out of the car. I don't think you can inhale the excessive amount of gas fumes any longer." Manager Jeb ordered, clapping his hands.

When Ari got out of the car, he slid the door shut with a loud bang, and stormed off into the villa, pushing Gazzy aside. "What's wrong with Ari?" He commented loudly, scratching his head with a bemused expression on his face.

I sighed in exasperation, and was planning on going back into the seclusion of my room before I felt an arm grasp my shoulder tightly. I didn't even have to turn around to see who it was. "Jeb," I acknowledged.

"Can I talk to you for a few moments, Fang?" I knew what he wanted to discuss with me. I was in desperate need of my comforter, pillow and sketch pad, or so help me I shall faint into Jeb's arms right now.

"Can it wait?" I asked, my voice was almost pleading. Of course, with Jeb, you could never argue with him. It was like…if Jeb says you walk right, you walk right. You'd never stride to the left, or start spinning around like an idiot on the sidewalk.

"Not a chance," Jeb mumbled, guiding me to the stone steps that would eventually lead to the secluded courtyard. Both of us sat on the swinging wooden bench, my hands folded neatly and resting on my lap, while Jeb had his legs crossed over at his ankles.

Enter the awkward silence phase. Eh, not really the stage that I enjoy, but hey, it was better than having to open my mouth and speak. Maybe I can just "pretend" to slip into sleep…and then –

"So, Fang," Jeb began after a few overly long moments of total awkwardness. "Is there something that's bugging you right now?"

Well, fuck that plan.

I shook my head, but to be honest, I had a list of millions of things that were running through my mind right now. Could I bring myself together and talk to Jeb about it, however…THAT was the real conflict.

"Nope," I lied airily, pulling on one of my famous poker faces.

But the sad thing is: Jeb knows me all too well. He might be a "Prez-Marian" fanatic and he might not be considered as one of the top nominees for "Doting Dad" award, but his sole responsibility is the four crazy wackos that call themselves, "One Winged Angel".

And to add, we've played poker way too often. He knows me, inside and out.

…Okay, that came out wrong, but you get my point.

"Fang, you don't have to lie to me." Jeb said, chuckling while he leaned back against the bench, making it swing slightly. "I've observed how you have been acting for the past month. In fact," He added, removing a dried up leaf from his hair. "It was one of my main jobs."

I turned around to stare at him, my eyes widening in bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

"Marian knows your personality. She was afraid that you might be envious of Ari that he took your spotlight, so she ordered me to observe your every move, making sure you didn't fall out of line." He gave me one of his crinkled grins. "I'm glad you only did frozen attire!"

How could I forget? I remember that day as if it had happened just yesterday. The memories that came with it brought a smile to my face, but it disappeared as quickly as my rare smirk had occurred. "What would've happened if I provoked Ari more?"

"Let's just say…" Jeb began quietly. "You wouldn't have been given a second chance."

At that, I had actually frozen in total shock. I mean, I knew that the Prez had an infatuation with Ari so large it could cover the entire country, but to the point that she'd kick ME out?

Thank the Lord for helping our relationship manoeuvre towards smooth waters.

Well, smooth-_ish_ waters.

"Fang, please answer me, and do be honest." He said, looking at me straight in the eye. I couldn't back down now. I sighed. _Here it comes._

"Do you like Ari?" The question came out, loud and clear. For a moment, I just sat there, stunned that Jeb even dared to interrogate me like this! I could think up so many things to rebut him…

_What the hell are you talking about? I'm not gay._

_Either your vision is impaired, or you have some other disability, but I can assure you that I have no sort of attraction towards Ari. At all. _

_You can interrogate me all you want, but my answer will still remain the same. It's a no._

After a few seconds of silence, however, I answered without the use of my voice, but only a slight tip of my head.

Jeb watched me intently, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see that there was no more friendliness at all in his aging face. In fact, he was grimacing.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my tone turning slightly bitter (Which was bad, considering how much it seemed like Jeb wanted to help me overcome my problems). "Wasn't the answer that you were expecting?"

"Oh, I expected it alright." Jeb replied, avoiding any sort of eye contact with me. "I just can't say that I'm too happy for you." _Or your son, for that matter. _

"Neither am I." I sighed half-heartedly, crossing my arms. "Jeb, what do you suggest that I do?"

"I'm not going to teach you how to deal with it, Fang. This is your life, and as much as I would love to give you advice, I can't." He turned, his eyes drooping sadly. "You're a smart kid. You'll know what to do."

"But what can I do?" I asked, tugging on his shirt sleeve.

My heart was begging for answers to extremely complex questions, advice on what my next step should be, scolding for falling in love with somebody whom should be considered restricted, and finally…reassurance…the shaky ground of hope that everything will be alright.

But unfortunately, Jeb wasn't God. He didn't know what tomorrow would bring.

Jeb stood up, brushing some leaves off of his pants, signifying that I had to release my grip from his sleeve. Just before he left, however, he whirled around to look at me once more.

"Fang, don't forget that this is your life. You're the one who determines where you want to go, and what you want to do with it." Jeb said.

"But right now, I'm stuck at a four-way intersection. Which way should I go? Which path should I take?" I mused, glancing at my entwined hands instead.

"I don't think you'd want any input on this, but…I'm sorry to say that the only thing you can do is forget him. If you're in such a predicament, then forgetting Ari is the best thing to do."

With that, Jeb left for the house, leaving me to my confused thoughts.

* * *

_Welcome to: Fang's Blog!_

_You are Visitor #: 23, 901,589_

"_Typing and deleting all the words at once before even publishing what I truly want to say. It's starting to become a habit that I should break."_

I heaved a sigh, refusing to look at the rush of concerned e-mails that had flooded my inbox. It didn't matter, anyway. It wasn't like I was going to tell THEM what was wrong…

I stared up at my ceiling, pondering what I should do.

Should I forget him?

_But the two of us have gone through so much together. You even risked your life in cycling all the way to the hospital JUST for him! _

Then, should I confess?

_Don't you ever learn? Do you want Justin Bieber scandal number 2 in the making? No wait; it's not even Justin Bieber. It's HIM this time. Let's call it the "Ari Ride Scandal"! Do you want that?_

My eyes suddenly fell upon the vase of half-wilting daises, desperately in need of water. Instead, however, I found a much more suitable role for them. I got up from my office chair, and took the entire vase out onto the secluded patio.

The night air blew into my face, cooling me down from the intense heat while facing the computer screen. I picked one of my daisies, and started to pluck the delicate petals off.

"Should I…or should I not…should I…or should I not…should I…"

"What in the **WORLD** are you doing?"

Fuck.

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

Usually, homemade rotini with Dad's special cheese sauce would make me a very happy girl. No, wait, correction: If the world were to end today, I would DIE a happy girl.

Unfortunately, though, it didn't today.

"Ari," Gazzy sing-sang in a wheedling voice. "If you're not eating that, then can I have it? I'm still hungry!"

"Go ahead," I grumbled, sliding my untouched plate of food to him.

Dad squeezed my arm. "Do you need to take a walk?"

I nodded. "I'm going out onto the patio. I'll be right back."

"Don't get lost on the way," Iggy said coldly from the couch, his eyes focused on the television. "We wouldn't want to lose you again."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I hope you don't get too perplexed with the channel that you end up eating more than you can handle, and die a very painful death."

I stormed up towards the second floor, grabbing a nearby coat that was lying limply against the wooden banister. When I pulled it on, though, I just realized that it was Fang's jacket, a little bit too long in length, but still fit me fine just the same.

Uh oh, I'm getting fat. I mean, even a BOY'S CLOTHES FIT ME PERFECTLY!

Just as I was about to enter the patio, I noticed a strange figure (Head drooping in a depressing manner and all) standing near the railing. I froze, getting ready to throw the nearest potted plant at his/her head.

Whaaat! Technically, I'm not violent. I just can't…see…in the dark! But after looking closely, I recognized HIS backside and pursed my lips slightly.

"What in the **WORLD** are you doing?"

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

Before Ari could see me acting like a lovesick fool, I discarded the half-plucked daisy onto the street below us.

"Um…uh…nothing," I mumbled, feeling my cheeks turn slightly red. Another question started to drift into my brain, however. Was Ari still angry with me?

Despite my immediate suspicions, Ari strolled slowly towards me, standing a good few feet away. Great, we still weren't on the same page, but it was a start. At least he isn't chucking eggs at my face.

"Fang, can I ask you a question?"

I frowned slightly. "If you're going to ask me about what happened to my forehead, you're just going to waste your spit." I heard him mumble something along the lines of "That sickening bastard" before he inched another few towards me.

"Fine," He grumbled. Despite the darkness, I could literally hear him roll his eyes through his voice. "Then can I ask you something else?"

"If it's going to be the same question but in a different language, it still counts," I reminded him cheekily.

"No, it's not," Ari replied, chuckling. "I'm just curious to know…"

"Yes?"

"…What's your ideal girl?"

Oh, God, and I thought he was going to ask me something weird…

Well, this is considered "strange", but I'll answer seriously anyway.

"Um, let's see…" I began, pretending to be questioning what the meaning of life is. "Someone who is…pretty, cute, talented, lady-like, mature, responsible, around five foot eight with heels on, red-haired, hard-working and dedicated."

I shoot him an innocent gaze. "I'm not too picky, right?"

**BAM!**

…I was expecting this…but…

"Ow! Seriously, you hit like a guy!" I complained, rubbing my currently sore arm…

"And you take hits like a girl. Be serious!" He cried, placing his hands on his hips while fuming.

And just like that, we were talking again as if the little argument we had earlier in the afternoon had disappeared into nothingness. I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with relief.

"Well…then," As I took a good look at him, my cheeks started to flush again. Oh, my God, this is so not good. "It's…just someone that…when I look right at her, I feel chemistry. But…"

My legs suddenly knocked over the vase of daisies, but as of right now, my favourite flowers didn't even mean a single thing to me. Nothing at all.

I laughed bleakly as I thought of how ridiculous I just sounded. God damn, I must be like some emo Romeo. "But…it's not that simple…trying to find the perfect person."

"But Fang," Ari began gently, prodding my arm. "You said it yourself. There's no such thing as a perfect companion. Remember your infamous quote that literally killed all of your prepubescent fangs? You learn to love an imperfect person perfectly."

I had to laugh. "You're such a stalker…"

With the warm lighting that emitted from the dim lights, everything just seemed so perfect to be true. Without even thinking of the consequences that I may suffer, I planted a chaste kiss against Ari's own lips.

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

"I'm not being too picky, right?"

_Damn WRONG he's being insanely picky! _I knew who he was thinking of already. It was either Miss Oozing-In-Hurl Fire Head or Miss Perfect Two Shoes Secretary. I punched him hard on the arm.

"Ow! You hit like a boy!" He cried, grasping my wrists in annoyance (With no success at all, if I may add).

"You take hits like a girl," I shot back triumphantly, replacing the teasing and mocking with a more severe attitude. "Be serious!"

…Isn't it just amazing how something like a dispute could be dissolved so quickly through play-fighting? Now, at least, I can sleep without having something heavy sitting on my heart.

"Well…then," He began. I looked at him intently, and he turned away. I frowned, pondering what in the world I could've done to make him so bashful. "It's…just someone that…when I look right at her, I feel chemistry. But…"

Oh, my God – that has probably got to be one of the cheesiest lines in the history of cheesy romance lines.

Then again, a little calcium was always good for the bones, right? At his description, I felt my own face grow warmer than I would've liked it to be. Shit.

He started to laugh just as I regained my composure. "But…it's not that simple…trying to find the perfect person." To me, Fang started to sound sad. Heck, even I started to feel gloomy.

"But Fang," I reminded him, prodding his arm gently. "You said it yourself. There's no such thing as a perfect companion. Remember your infamous quote that literally killed all of your prepubescent fangs? You learn to love an imperfect person perfectly."

Fang started to laugh, and with that, I knew I managed to cheer him up. And I made myself happier too, for that matter.

Just as I was about to open my mouth again to speak, Fang had already begun to turn his head slightly, and without any sort of warning at all, he pressed his lips against mine. A fresh surge of butterflies started to erupt in my stomach, and as much as the logical side wanted to say that it was wrong, I had to say everything was just perfect..

So this is what people call "love", right?

I think I could get used to it.

* * *

**YES! That is, indeed, the end of Chapter 16. I hope you enjoyed it! C: I would really like to give a shout-out to all of my readers for helping My Fair Lady reach 242 reviews! I couldn't have done it without ALL of you! C: Words cannot express how thankful I am to have such wonderful readers. I'm just too lucky XDD As always, your reviews, your comments, feedback and any sort of constructive criticism is ALWAYS welcomed!**

**Anyways, I'm hoping that Chapter 17 will not be delayed too much, but with school coming to an end soon, I have many things to prepare for (Such as final exams and everything). I have been testing out a few one-shots for Sasuke and Sakura (Yes, I have fallen in love with Naruto again C:), so I might update with a few of those. I will try my best to update ASAP though! I just can't get enough of Max and Fang. C:**

**So in the meantime, enjoy the lovely sunshine! Have a fantastic remainder of May, and hopefully, I'll see you again in...uh let's say, June? Haha! XD**

**Luff,**

**Sam C: **


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello my lovely readers! C: It's Sam C: here, and she's ready to roll (Once again)! Aha, so after a full week of brainstorming (And not paying attention in class LOL XD), I have finally come up with this Chapter just for all of you! I've been sick for the past few days, so I could've uploaded this earlier, but then I had to edit and do all that stuff sooo, yep! Sorry for the delay! **

**I actually have the remaining Chapter notes in my handy dandy notebook, so I'll be working on Chapter 18 as soon as I can. C: My senior year is finally coming to an end in approximately four weeks! Can you imagine? Four weeks? Four weeks is like...psh. NOTHING. DX So I will be extremely busy in June, having to attend this and that and what not, but I'll definitely be able to spend some more time with this story since it's almost summer! C: **

**Once again, thank-you so, so much for helping My Fair Lady reach 269 reviews! I can't believe we've managed to get this far, and who do I owe it to? All of you lovely readers, of course! C: Without you, I don't know how I managed to write Chapter 17. Didn't break my record, but it was a close battle. XP Shout-outs will be listed at the bottom! C:**

**Max - YOU'RE CONTAGIOUS.  
****Sam C: - That I am, yes.  
Fang - Meaning you have germs.  
Sam C: - That, yes I do, in fact.  
****Nudge - EW. YOU'RE GROSS.  
Sam :C - You make me sad. Very sad. ALL OF YOU PEOPLE ARE JUST CRAZY. EVERYBODY GETS SICK.  
Iggy - Here, Sammy, have some chicken soup.  
Gazzy - And here's some chocolate cake!  
Max - Er, I don't think she's supposed to have chocolate cake...especially when there's mold growing from it.  
Sam C: - Gazzy, you disgust me. YOU DISGUST ME! Is it from your food cabinet?  
Gazzy - WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR! BUSTER OR SOMETHING?  
Angel - Er, ladies and gentleman? Feel free to get started!**

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

I may be a total sports fanatic and athlete, a successful male-impersonating sister with a two hundred page biography to go along with, and blessed to have the Singing Gene Fairy sprinkle her magical dust on me when I was still an embryo, but there is one thing that I ultimately fail the most in life: Dealing with romantic relationships with the opposite sex, and proceeding to kiss them.

It's tragic.

I mean, I can get along with males just perfectly! Hence, I can beat the crap out of Ari when he starts to act idiotic, and arm wrestle Gazzy like there's no tomorrow.

But…when it comes to this whole boyfriend and girlfriend situation, I'm kind of like a newborn baby. When I deal with love and that mushy gushy Romeo and Juliet sort of stuff, I resemble this useless and helpless arms-flailing-outward creature, unable to do anything OTHER than stare stupidly into space.

However, if you are able to step into my shoes for a day and be given the rare opportunity to lock lips with Fang, the experienced, beetle-eyed jerk face – I guess you could say that your body just reacts on their own. You're not "forced" to do anything weird (Like jerk your head in such a strange manner it looks like you're being strangled from afar) when you're able to lock lips with the person that you've always wanted.

Take Sam as a good example, a fine example of a young man who didn't have enough testosterone building in his body to make him grow a few inches taller so he didn't have to use a stupid phone book the size of my mother's potential wedding gown binder and THEN, embarrassingly enough, stand on his tip toes to reach the height of my chin.

…My mother has and will never let me live it down.

But simply put, to me, there was nothing that could ever beat this. Underneath the cliché bright moonlight setting, an electric impulse seemed to dance through my veins just when his lips had barely brushed against my own. And damn, he smelled like a mixture of his cologne and his shampoo…

Which, in my opinion, is like one of the best scents ever created and known to mankind (Or my kind, anyway; seeing that I'm probably the only male-impersonating female who will ever get to kiss him like this).

Those high-pitched eleven-year-olds weren't kidding when the worldwide poll results showed Fang was voted as 'Most Wanted Idol To Have A First Kiss With'.

Time seemed to have stopped. It was as if everyone else was swallowed up by a black hole, leaving only two of us existing on the empty planet, and **NO**, I am _NOT_ exaggerating.

There was just one tiny flaw though.

Both of us seemed to have momentarily forgotten that I was, for the time being, a male. With Fang being another member of the supposedly 'same sex', we broke apart after a few seconds, staring incredulously at one another.

Oh, my God – what have we done?

"You, uh…" I started to stammer. God damnit, I _**HATE**_ it when I can't use my stupid tongue and form a simple sentence together! A stuttering, blushing-to-the-roots-of-my-hair Max is somebody I never intended to be.

"We, um…you…I…I don't," Fang sounded like he had a speech impairment, but needless to say, a bashful-looking Fang is (I cannot believe I'm going to use this word) cute.

**CRASH! **

A loud crash from the patio door caused the both of us to jump, and as I slowly whirled around, I caught a glimpse of the wounded complexion on his face. The strawberry-blonde hair lay tousled on his head, his normally friendly turquoise-blue eyes burning with undeniable hatred…

"Iggy," I whispered, stepping closer towards him.

"Don't you even dare come any closer," Iggy warned, looking at the shattered bowl of ice-cream he had brought up. "How could you?"

"Iggy, please listen – "

"No! I'm not listening anymore! Go back to your knight in dark armour. I…" A few tears started to trickle from his face, and my heart instantly stopped beating for a few seconds. "I'm…I'm fine."

No, he wasn't fine. Otherwise, Iggy wouldn't have tears running down his face right now!

Was it my fault? Was it…was it…

Suddenly, everything started to fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Just a few hours ago since my awakening, all the memories I had from before and after were just lying loosely in air, refusing to be put together.

Now…it made sense. My fingers started to grow numb, my heart started to sink deeper and deeper into the pit of my stomach, and a strong migraine started to erupt from my brain.

Iggy wasn't furious. Well, yes, he was, but he was jealous at the same time. My assumptions were completely false. Iggy was angry with Fang…_because of me_.

Why didn't I see it before?

Oh, right, because I was too "preoccupied" with Fang and his stupid wrapped forehead.

I placed my hands over my ears, waiting, waiting, waiting for the second hand on the clock downstairs to stop ticking.

But, unfortunately, that was the beauty of life. It just kept on going and moving, no matter how hard you prayed for it to freeze just for a few seconds so you could plan out what you could say or do next.

"You disgust me so much. If you still have some small amount of respect for me, don't follow me. I don't want to see your face any longer." Iggy spat as bitterly as he could, turning on his heel and already sprinting down the stairs.

A slam emitting from the doorway signified that he already run off, and from the patio ledge, I watched helplessly as he ran as hard as he could down the narrow street.

"Iggy, wait!" I yelled, beginning to run after him. A strong tug on my arm, however, pulled me back. I whirled around. "Don't you even dare say that we just leave him alone."

Fang only shook his head slightly. "You don't understand. I know Iggy better than you do, Ari, and the thing that he needs to – "

"I don't give a fuck!" I spat bitterly, wrenching my arm from his grasp. "Nobody cares about how long you've known a person. If you care about them, you'll protect them. Right now, leaving him vulnerable on the streets of Los Angeles is one thing I will not put up with."

With that, I quickly bolted down the stairs and out the door. Before leaving, however, I noticed Dad shooting me a face with a look conveying the message: _I'm extremely disappointed in you, Max. _

My heart tightened, but I couldn't dwell on that for now. Right now, you can ask me the question: what is more important? Asking my father about his cryptic facial expression? Or losing one of my good friends?

As I pulled on my sneakers, the answer was crystal clear. But how…how was I going to talk to Iggy in the gentlest way possible without killing him even more, well…that was the main problem right now.

* * *

Since it was almost eleven thirty, the city wasn't bustling with life anymore, but several stores were still open for business. Why they would even go to such lengths to do so…well…I don't think I'll be able to understand.

Then again, it was the perfect timing to find someone, without having to manoeuvre through the groups of people that crowded the sidewalk with their oversized backpacks, whining kids and crapping pets.

I slowed down as I neared an empty four-way stop, scratching my sweaty and disgusting scalp as to where Iggy might be. _Where did you go, Iggy? _

A twenty-four hour coffee shop? Nah, there's too many people in there. Besides, Iggy doesn't even like coffee or doughnuts, for that matter. Strange fellow he is…

The city park? Ideally, this should've been the spot (Since it's secluded and all that, minus the few staggering hobos that might be there), but Iggy can't even run two miles without having to faint after accomplishing one.

The ice-cream parlour? He may love ice-cream, but he hates the "agonizing wait" while the slow-as-a-slug cashiers ring up his particularly picky order.

Suddenly, my eyes fell upon the empty subway station that emitted a faint glow. Ah! The light bulb started to light up brightly in my brain. Just as I started to walk in, however, I was disappointed to find it completely empty, except for a few discarded pieces of newspaper lying on the bench.

"Tch!" I yelped as a gust of wind from outside blew in, lifting the soiled piece of news from the entertainment section and into my face. From the surprise attack of the tabloid, I tripped over the nearby bench and fell flat on my butt. "Ouch, that hurt."

Lifting the newspaper from my eyes though, the enlarged and bolded letters caught my eye just like that. "What the fuck!"

"**One Winged Angel Ari Saved Once More! Guardian Angel/Biker Boy Fang Speaks: 'I'm no hero. It just felt necessary. I just wanted to protect him.'"**

Uh oh, when was this? How come I was never informed? What in the world happened when I –

Oh. So that's what happened to Fang. A sudden rush of emotions – including guilt, happiness, anger and graciousness – started to overcome me.

Instead of throwing it away into the nearest garbage (Which would've been a horrible gesture in trying to preserve our environment), I folded it carefully into a small square before tucking it away into the pocket of my jeans.

"You see how it is then?" A nasty voice echoed throughout the subway. My ears started to perk up, but hang on a minute. There's something **NOT** right with this voice – it sounds nasally, congested and…so high-pitched.

I started to slide quietly to the side of the bench, dragging my beloved jeans along the ground. Once I was in the safety haven, I peeked from behind and stared incredulously at the scene unravelling before me. It was that same idiot, with his "girlfriend" (The one who tried to strangle me with the nails of death), both arguing over something.

There was something different about that girl though, but strangely enough, I couldn't pinpoint the different right then and there.

There seemed to be a small bulge on her stomach though…oh, God, don't tell me – I wonder what kind of mother she'd turn out to be.

"No, I don't see how it is! I told you that you're going to have to start working! Stop playing on your PlayStation, and I don't know – actually _**DO**_ something for a change?" She shrieked furiously, pointing at her baby bump.

I know what her FML should be: _Today, my boyfriend and I were arguing in the subway station. He's twenty-four, jobless and would rather play House of the Dead: Overkill on his game console than write up his resume. I'm twenty-four, one-month pregnant and also jobless. I would like to work, but I can't work because he claims that "I need to rest" and he "needs a second player to defeat the zombies". _

If I were her, I'd dump the lame-ass, but then again, I'm not her, and secondly, she assumed that I was out to steal her boyfriend. She didn't need my input, but I'll definitely be one of the fair few that is clicking "You totally deserved it" tonight.

"Tch! Do you know how _**LONG**_ it took to beat my high score?"

Oh, my God, I need to escape. I don't want to get caught in this tangled web of irresponsibility and blame. I have my own to cut through…

With the sudden blaring from the distant horn, I realized how quickly the subway was going to come, and really, it was my _ONLY_ escape route.

It was "do or die" time, and I was planning on getting married and doing all that fun stuff before passing away.

Simply put, I don't intend to die at the age of eighteen from a pair of irresponsible parents who could rip my body in quarters and eighths with their Wii remotes.

When the subway finally skidded to a complete stop, I inched myself closer towards the entrance, but it wasn't long before –

"**HEY YOU!**" See what I mean?

My body immediately froze (From whatever, I really didn't know; I've had to deal with some pretty intense stuff before, so I had no idea why or how I could've immobilized from fear of a pregnant woman), and my legs didn't react.

Fuck it, Max under an intense amount of pressure was about the same as Max writing a final Chemistry exam.

"Hey, _**I KNOW YOU**_! You're the guy who tried to seduce my boyfriend!"

Forget what I said. A pregnant woman IS equivalent to seeing blood and a bloodthirsty great white shark in a swimming pool. Not trying to imply anything here; just sayin'.

"**GET BACK HERE!**" She snarled, lumbering towards me like some troll.

If I don't move fast, I'm going to be shark bait – pun intended.

In a few seconds, I had gotten back onto my feet and sprinted right into the car just as the electronic doors slid themselves close.

I grinned gleefully while she tried to smash heavy rocks against the window pane. Needless to say, it didn't work quite well.

A moment of self accomplishment? I have to say yes…

But then, the previous memories of Iggy running for his life from the villa started to flood back into my brain, and God, oh God…

I just realized how immature it was of me to even take the time to honour myself in fighting a successful battle against the great white.

I sank myself into one of the nearby seats, growing extremely weary and tired. I rested my chin underneath my palm, questioning where in the world Iggy could've gone.

_Iggy._

Even the name seemed to bring goose bumps to my skin.

The door started to slide open once again, and just as I looked up, the familiar colour of black and white caught my attention. My God, anybody could be wearing black and white in Los Angeles, but no. I could recognize the pattern of Dalmatians any day.

Those were the pyjamas I bought him when he was admitted into the hospital for his corneal transplant. And my guess was correct: It was him, but this time, he completely averted his gaze without acknowledging me at all.

Guilt started to tug at my heart, and for some reason, my eyes started to water with tears. Knowing me, you know that I absolutely cannot stand waterworks, and I only cry unless there is a good reason to. This time, I couldn't figure out what that reason was.

I felt so helpless; just like a stranded coward, unable to do anything but sob to her heart's content. The tears just continued to drip onto the folded hands of my lap.

"Bitch."

I'm used to being called that name so many times in the past, but now, when the word came out from his mouth, it pierced me so badly…so badly that my chest started to hurt.

Why?

"Iggy, I…" I wanted to keep talking, but it was becoming difficult. I was trying hard to gulp back the tears that could be heard evidently.

"You know what?" Iggy asked, laughing bleakly as he stared out the moving scenery outside. "It's funny…I never truly loved somebody before. I had friends at school, but I was always the 'odd one out'. Left out. Alone. Unprotected from the hatred I received from my peers."

Why was he even telling me this? What point was there to his life story?

"Music was my only escape, Max," Iggy continued, shaking his head with a sad smile on his face. "Music was the only friend that I had, and was the only friend that understood me. You know, even when I was still a trainee at CME, I'd refuse to go out for gatherings with others."

"I was shy, I was awkward, I was…" His hand started to tighten into a shaking fist. "Even when I had joined One Winged Angel as the percussionist, it took me half a year to finally trust Fang and Gazzy. And…"

Iggy finally turned his head to look at me, and from my blurry vision, I could make out his own bloodshot eyes behind his glasses. I refused to look at him, because I knew that if I stared at him even more, the tears would come faster.

"You, Max…you came into my life."

There were so many things that I had wanted to say. I wanted to apologize, to say that I'm truly sorry for leading him on (If I was using the term correctly), for...for breaking his heart.

But 'I'm sorry' just isn't going to cut it anymore. One valuable lesson that I learned tonight: Apologies are nothing but words. They were empty gestures just to show that you're genuine, and that you were begging for forgiveness with just two words.

I could apologize ten thousand times, maybe even a million times, but nothing would remain the same anymore. Once the vase is broken, you could repair it with Super Glue and all that crap to make it look better, but the real question is: Would the vase still look the same?

"You came into my life, and God, you were so unique." He said, leaning back into his seat in a relaxed state. "Before I discovered that you were a girl, I'll admit that the aura and the personality that you gave off really attracted me."

"I thought you overheard my conversation with D – I mean, Jeb, so…" My voice trailed off.

"That, too, was surprising." He nodded in agreement. "I tried to find out for myself if you truly were a girl, but eventually, I just gave up. You know why?"

I shook my head.

"Because I thought that it didn't matter." He said simply.

There were so many questions that I wanted to ask him, but instead of bombarding him, I decided to let him continue. I was just too…distressed and absorbing too much information from him.

There was just too much that a girl's heart can take in one day.

"I thought…gosh, if only there was a female version of Ari, and then I would definitely die a lucky and happy man. I mean…" Iggy removed his glasses and started to rub his eyes with the back of his shirt sleeve, leaving two evident splotched marks on it.

I reached into the pocket of my jacket for a tissue, but just as my hand felt the soft and smooth material, Iggy shot me a cold glare.

"Please don't." He mumbled cold-heartedly, and my hand immediately shot back from the tissue. The coldness in his voice startled me, and needless to say, the tears started to overflow again.

After a few seconds of listening to nothing but the subway travelling along the pathway, he continued once again. "You were the one who took the time to find me that very same night just a few weeks ago and you were the one who took the time and effort to take care of me." Iggy chuckled.

"Just after I figured out you were actually a girl, I couldn't be more pleased." He continued, turning his head to look at me. "Remember that night when I kissed you?"

How could I have ever forgotten? That extremely awkward memory has etched itself into the back of my brain forever.

"It was 'cause…back then, I already sort of had a crush on you."

I didn't know what I was more bewildered about. The fact that he had some secret attraction towards me from the very start, or his assumption that just because I started to take care of him more after his transplant, it meant that I had feelings for him (And vice versa).

"But then, when Fang walked in on us, it was so painfully obvious that you were terrified of the fact of him seeing the both of us together." It was true. Back then, the dream of having a romantic relationship with Fang was so…so far-fetched, especially since I was impersonating for my twin brother at the same time.

But that little glimmer of hope continued to flash before me, and before I even knew it, the feelings did become requited…although in totally bad timing.

"So then I just thought…maybe she just needs more time to adjust and to understand my feelings for you, and perhaps you just didn't want your secret exposed…" Iggy slammed his fist against the window, his back heaving heavily. "But you…the little naïve you…you just pushed me away while you were seething in jealousy over Fang and Lissa."

"Is it that noticeable?" I was dreading the answer, hoping that maybe just a few people would've seen the jealous sparks that flew during rehearsal times.

"No, but to those who cared about you, then yes," He answered blankly, adjusting his fringe damp with sweat. "I saw it in your eyes, plain and simple. You were in love with Fang, and I didn't know how to deal with it. I didn't try to forget you. I just pretended that your infatuation never existed."

"You could've moved on." I said heavily. "You could've – "

"Tried Ella?" Iggy demanded furiously. "I'm sorry, Max, but I'm not the type of guy to mess around with a girl's feelings. Not only is it rude and disrespectful, it's hurtful. You know that I'm a gentleman, and as a gentleman, I'm not willing to watch a good friend suffer."

I shook my head, covering my ears with my hands. I just wanted all of this to end. Couldn't we just pretend nothing ever happened, and stick with being friends?

Love could seriously go fuck itself.

"I didn't even realize that I fell in love with you…but…" Iggy caught a glimpse of the piece of dirty newspaper that was peeking out of my pockets. "You read that, didn't you?" His face started to fall.

I couldn't lie anymore; I just couldn't. What more could hiding the facts do for me in this predicament?

"I'll take your silence as a yes." He said dully. "So you know the whole story…of how Fang 'risked his life' to save your own and get you to the hospital once you fainted. But you know what?"

No, I didn't know 'what', and I wasn't interested in knowing 'what' it was.

"I started to feel jealous. You were so uptight about his injury, and I could see it, Max. The first person you were looking forward to seeing wasn't Gazzy, Manager Jeb or I. It was Fang."

"But it's just like how I treated you when you just got your corneal transplant." I argued. "You shouldn't even have to feel jealous."

"That may be true," He agreed, looking down at his enfolded hands. "But I just was. Remember how you felt when you watched Fang and Lissa get together for their Black and White performance? That was the same feeling I got. I couldn't control it. It overtook me instead."

So that was the whole reason behind his hostility. It was just jealousy.

"Max," Iggy began slowly. "You were the first girl that I learned to love."

The last sentence caused my entire body to shiver. This just complicated things so much more than necessary…_I was the first girl Iggy loved. I was the first…I was his first…and…and…_

Oh, my God, so it's right here, right now that Iggy makes his declaration of love for me. I can't say I'm relieved, happy or even 'just okay'. In fact, I'm the complete opposite. I'm a mess.

_And I was his first heartbreak._

"And now, you shattered my heart into pieces." He finished, smashing his fist through the window. The glass was completely destroyed, leaving nothing but a large hole. Blood started to seep through the cuts on his trembling fingers, and with his eyes squeezed shut, his own tears started to run.

There were enough tears to fill a river, maybe an ocean, but tears and apologies weren't going to do anything anymore.

I wanted to tell him that I only thought of him as a younger brother or a best buddy, but right now, I didn't think it was necessary. He's had…actually; both of us have had an overload of confessions.

"Isn't it ironic?" Iggy started to say, wiping his nose with the back of his sticky hand that was covered in dried blood.

"What?" I asked.

"It's so ironic…about how we became closer on an empty subway station at the exact same time just a few weeks ago, and now…take a look at where we've gotten to." He gestured towards the disturbing gap between us.

"We're strangers again."

Without realizing it, the luminous digits on my watch started to glow brightly. It was exactly twelve thirty, and like he said, approximately the same time that we had our first heartfelt discussion. The train finally eased to a halt for we had reached the next stop, and without looking back, I got up and started to run out.

I continued to run, refusing to look back. I was half-hoping he might've followed me, just bashful about reaching his hand out to keep me from sprinting, but obviously, that never happened.

Once I slowed down my pace, I sank weakly onto a nearby park bench, tucking my legs close to my chest with my arms snaked around them. Here I was, in a vulnerable place, in a vulnerable position, but right now, that didn't matter to me.

I just lost a friend, possibly forever. We might never be the same…_ever again_.

* * *

By the time I woke up, dawn was already approaching, with the digits of my watch reading five forty-five in the morning. I was even surprised that I managed to survive the night without the safety of a house, a warm bed or…or…or a friend to keep me company.

I quickly jumped into an empty cab, with a driver whom was gracious enough to let me pay off my debt with just a signature for his daughter.

I trudged back up the driveway slowly, dreading to go inside to deal with more trouble. Once I clasped my fingers around the doorknob and twisted, I saw a figure, sitting with his arms crossed against his chest.

"Hey Dad," I greeted lifelessly.

"So you're back," He replied without acknowledging my hello, patting the seat next to him. I removed my jacket and sank slowly into the chair.

"Is he?"

Dad nodded, pointing his thumb at the couch where a sleeping figure lay restlessly, thrashing and waving his arms every few seconds. "We can't talk here. He just got back from the emergency room."

"What? Why?" I asked in horror.

Dad just pointed at his gauze-wrapped hand. "See that? Ella found him just an hour ago, lying on the streets, and took him to the hospital to get him fixed up and back. Nice girl, that Ella."

Relief flushed through my heart, but it was quickly replaced with guilt. Thank-you Ella, thank-you for bringing him home safely, but at the same time, I feel horrible to leaving him alone.

"And where were you?" He questioned, guiding me to the hidden courtyard behind the house with a hot wet towel in tow.

"Sleeping in a park," I murmured softly, reaching for the towel to wipe my face with. I didn't have enough guts to tell him the whole story because I was afraid of him getting angry with me (I mean, I had a pretty steady relationship with him, and I didn't want to make him think of me as 'the irresponsible bitch'), but I'm sure that judging from my face, he knows most of the story.

He **IS** Jeb, One Winged Angel's manager, and my father for good reason.

"Max, I'm not disappointed in you." Dad said finally after a while, wrapping his arm around me comfortingly. It was nice, having to stop all of this stupid impersonating and just be myself around Dad for a change.

"What do you mean? Dad, I'm your daughter. I just made a huge mistake, and ruined the…" I didn't know what to say. My friendship Iggy, my complex relationship with Fang...the...oh, God…

"I just ruined everything! Shouldn't I be punished for the things that I've done?" I asked miserably, leaning my head against his shoulder.

"Don't forget I was a young adult before too." He explained simply. "Young adults are prone to making mistakes. It's just the way life goes, and I'm not blaming you for having feelings for Fang."

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. So it's _THAT_ noticeable...oh, my God. Even my own DAD can see it. "You knew about it too?"

"Did you just realize that not only am I your manager, but I'm also your father?" Dad laughed airily. "No, don't worry about it, Max. Nobody else figured it out."

"But what should I do now? Nothing is working out anymore." I said glumly, with my thoughts flickering back to Iggy's confession from late last night.

"It will work out." Dad encouraged. See, this is just one of the things that Dad has, and Mom doesn't (which is also one of the reasons why I love visiting him and Ari during the summertime – and constantly complain why I can't be stationed here for the rest of my life).

Dad just has that compassion and the ability to ease those around him (Namely, yours truly). Mom's just…eh…the type that refuses to listen to any sort of explanation that you may have. She's just…meh.

"How do you know, Dad? How do you know everything's going to turn out okay?" I pressed on, feeling more frantic by the minute – no, make that seconds. "Nobody knows what tomorrow is going to bring. I mean, God knows, but none of us are God."

"…You need sleep."

Alright then…yeah, so after my entire fit of being terrified about the future, all he says is that I require sleep?

Hmm, now that he mentions it, sleep does sound pretty good at the moment.

"Alright, then," I mumbled, yawning slightly. "It's not like fussing over the issue will resolve it anyway."

Black and white memories from my childhood started to play as I drifted slowly into unconsciousness, and the sensation of being carried inside the house started to bring some tears to my eyes.

"Sleep now, Max, don't worry about anything anymore."

It was the same thing he told me when I received a C minus on my book report from fourth grade and was walloped by my lovely demonic mother of that time with her broomstick (Which really packed a punch).

Needless to say, it was probably one of the most comforting things a parent could ever say to their child, no joke (Of course, remove the name 'Max' and replace it with their own). I have a feeling Dad's going to be a great grandfather one day…

"Thanks Dad," I mumbled, feeling spit starting to drip uncontrollably from the corner of my mouth. I must look like some dog infected with rabies right now, but who the hell cares?

I might be unlucky enough to be living in a household where two men had feelings for me and were feuding because of me and my strange womanly emotions, but I was fortunate enough to have a dad that stuck with me until the end.

* * *

As soon as I woke up just a couple of hours later, however, things started to go downhill.

First of all, sunlight streamed through my **OPEN BLINDS** and shot their deathly UV rays right into my eyes. Okay, so I might love being underneath that giant star and all, but while I'm sleeping? Yeah, never going to let Gazzy raid my room and mess everything up.

Second of all, waking up meant that I had to deal with reality, and sadly, reality was something I wasn't looking forward to facing.

Thirdly, while I was eating my hearty breakfast that Dad had especially prepared for me, Fang called all of us into the practice room, which meant I had to face not only one, but TWO of the guys that I didn't exactly want to talk to at the moment.

Talk about major FML.

"What do you want? It's eight o'clock in the morning, and some of us are trying to hear the crunch to our cereal." Gazzy grumbled, scratching his eye while his head drooped tiredly onto my shoulder.

Poor kid.

"I wrote a new song." Fang replied, handing out sheet music to us. What I noticed, however, was he was being extremely careful about giving me the piece of paper, taking care to not touch my hand.

As grateful as I was, it was too, too awkward.

"Thanks," I mumbled, taking it quickly. Fang only ignored my gratitude, and seated himself on top of the black speakers.

"What's the title?" Gazzy asked, refusing to open his bleary eyes to even LOOK at the heading in size sixteen Calibri fonts.

"Lonely," Iggy replied dully. "And for sure, this song totally represents my feelings of loneliness right now. It just seems to fit my life story…no wait," He stalled, examining the lyrics printed neatly underneath the black notes. "Perhaps it matches my unrequited love's life story."

My heart suddenly gave a lurch, and I winced slightly. Fortunately, no one was able to witness this. At least not yet…since knowing Iggy, he's going to keep this shitty attitude up.

"Dude, what the fuck? Are you insane?" Gazzy asked incredulously, waving his hands up in the air in frustration. "Lonely? You're lonely? There's like…three freaking guys here to keep you company!"

I stared back in shock. I have _**NEVER**_ heard Gazzy drop the F Bomb so suddenly before.

One of the lines caught my eye the most, even though I wasn't examining it as thoroughly as Iggy was. _I must be lacking when it comes to love. Please forgive the horrible person that I become._

As much as I hated to admit it, Iggy was right. It matched me perfectly, and the more I read the lyrics to the song, the more remorseful I felt.

"What inspired you, Fang?" Gazzy asked curiously.

"…A mixture of emotions last night." Fang replied, staring straight at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, and I didn't know what to say. I was caught, tongue-tied, while Gazzy glanced at where Fang was staring at (Yours truly).

…

_Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!_

Saved by the telephone (Or was it Dad's Blackberry? I'm not too sure).

"I'll get it," I said quietly, getting up from my seat while feeling the intense heat from the stares of the three young men behind me.

Oh, God – it's as if I would like them staring at my ass right now.

However, as soon as I went into the kitchen, I took a quick peek at the phone to realize that it wasn't in use at the moment. Huh, funny. I could've SWORN that the phone was ringing just –

A quick prod on my back alerted me, and I whirled around quickly. Noticing it was Dad, I just sighed, rolling my eyes.

"It's for you," He mouthed to me, handing me the Blackberry. "It's your mother."

My mother? My…my…uh oh…

Generally, I'm not too terrified of my mother. I mean, she's the one who gave birth to me (Okay, that sentence sounded SO wrong – never going to say it, ever again), and technically speaking, she should be the one who knows me better than my father, right?

Yeah, it's actually the complete opposite. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being the dad's second best bud, right?

"Hello?" I greeted.

"Max!" Her ecstatic voice greeted me clearly from approximately several thousand miles away.

Ladies and gentleman: May I present my mother, Valencia Martinez (Soon to be) Smith. Robert had such a typical surname...

"Hey, um, Mom," I said awkwardly, lumbering towards the back door clumsily to get some privacy from the eavesdropping men from the practice room. "What's up?"

"How's Los Angeles with your father? Have you managed to fix him?"

"Fix Dad? What do you mean? There's nothing wrong with him. He's perfectly fine and breathing." I questioned suspiciously, trying hard to keep my tone soft.

"I mean, the only reason that you went to Los Angeles was to keep your father company while Ari went to Paris, didn't he?" Mom asked, making strange grunting noises whilst speaking to me.

Please don't tell me she and Robert are – y'know what I mean.

"Mom, are you okay?" I asked, half concerned and half amused. "What's up? Trying on your new corset?"

One of the things I love about my mother: She's easy to tease and mock (Not that I, as her daughter, should be doing this in the first place).

I could literally feel her blush behind the phone. "Of course not! I'm just getting a massage right now. Ah, yes, there. That's the spot…"

"So what's up?" I asked, trying (With difficulty) not to gag at the escaped moans that my mother produced.

"Well, Max, for starters, why haven't you been picking up your phone? I mean, is your mother non-existent when your father is around? Hmm?" She demanded suddenly.

Crap, I'm not quick enough to think of a good explanation! I decided to tell her HALF the truth; hey, at least I'm not lying about the other half! I'm just…tip toeing around that matter for a while, that's all…

"Mom, Dad just got me a new phone! Isn't that great? So, for the past few weeks, I've been playing around with it and completely…um…discarded my new phone…" I finished lamely, secretly praying that she won't be able to see through me.

Then again, this was my mother we were talking about.

"Oh, alright then. Well, I just wanted to inform you that I'm expecting you back in Washington several days later."

My heart suddenly came to a stop.

"What!"

* * *

"You heard me, Dad." I said, tucking a piece of hair behind my ears.

"What are you talking about, Max? Your mother doesn't _NEED_ you **NOW**! All you have to do is show up a day before the wedding, attach those...hair things on your head, wear some make-up and you'll be good to go!" Dad exclaimed furiously, pounding the dinner table with his fists.

Thank God it was one in the morning and the dynamic trio were all sleeping soundly. Otherwise, I have no idea how I was going to keep Dad from waking up Los Angeles.

"Dad, calm down!" I said, handing Dad glass after glass of cold water.

Dad chugged it down almost immediately, but he was still red in the face. Just like Jolly Old Saint Nicholas! Except he wasn't going to lean his ear my way…because he thinks my mother is an idiot for asking me to go back to Washington so early.

"Okay, Max, look. You don't understand. We haven't announced it yet but…" Dad clasped his hands together. "One Winged Angel is going to have their first official concert in three weeks' time, and during these three weeks, it is **CRUCIAL** that One Winged Angel performs to the best of their ability by scheduling in more practices."

"It's just a week, Dad." I protested. As much as I hated going back to try on stupid pink and purple frilly dresses, I couldn't miss Mom's wedding. This was important to her, anyway – though it wasn't of much importance to me. "Everything's going to be fine. I'll fly back to Los Angeles the next day, and we can get to practicing! Simple!"

Dad started to grumble, muttering potentially hazardous comments to himself (I'm sure they were directed to Mom, but oh well). "Fine, but I'm not going to be the one telling Marian that you're going to take a break."

"Relax, Dad," I said, rolling my eyes. "She's going to agree." _She has to._

As soon as the elevator rang its familiar _ding_, I stalked off into the hallway, examining the new contents of the room. Instead of the posters of her beloved children (Meaning us, her prized million-dollar salary earning artists), there were ripped magazines pages of extremely ripped women from fitness journals.

I mean, insanely ripped with the whole six-pack package, toned muscles and all.

"Hey, Prez, I need uh – WHOA, _**FUCK**_! _**WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING**_?" I cursed loudly, jumping at the jiggling figure in front of me with her bright-red sports bra and black yoga pants, running at a ridiculous speed on a newly-purchased treadmill.

The Prez, with her slightly washed out coppery-red hair that was tied into a high ponytail, flushed a water bottle over her face and pressed the Pause button.

Oh, my God – her appearance has nearly given me a heart attack.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" The Prez asked sarcastically between pants, wiping the remaining liquid off of her face.

If Dad saw her, damn, oh, damn, he'd have a nosebleed. No joke. At least her flabs were tightening up now.

"Um, running?" I finished stupidly, crossing my arms against my chest.

"Ha, extremely amusing," The Prez muttered bleakly. "What is it exactly that you need? I still have another half hour to go, and my precious time is wasting away with you standing around, gapping."

I started to drum my fingers against each other nervously. "Um, I need to take a leave from One Winged Angel for a week and a half."

The Prez's rosy face paled immensely. "Why is that?"

"Well," I began awkwardly, scratching the back of my head, not knowing where to start. "It's my mother's second wedding, and simply put, I'm needed or I'm screwed."

"Your…mother's wedding? Hmm…" The wicked smirk set on her face was not pleasing. At all. "Do you have her picture?" She asked suddenly.

What. The fuck. Not only did the Prez have a creepy infatuation on ME (Or, my twin brother), but she's attracted to my _**MOTHER**_?

She needs some counselling. Or better yet, lock her up in asylum.

"Huh? Why do you need my – _**EEP**_!" I screeched as the Prez hurled one of her fountain pens at me. "Dude, calm your socks!"

"Do you have it or not?" The Prez asked thunderously, getting ready to chuck another pen at me. "Give it to me, or you're not getting your break."

I grumbled, snorting slightly as I reached into my back pocket for my wallet and pulled out one of my family photographs from ancient history. "Here, you sickening blackmailer. Why do you need it in the first place?"

"Uh, uh, nothing," The Prez said, gawking at how 'young my mother looked while remaining such a soft and warm complexion', misreading my disgusted face for something else. "You're dismissed. Go. You got your break."

Well, I believe I should press that Staples button right now: That was easy.

* * *

"Can I coome? Life is always more of a party with **ME** around!" Gazzy pleaded for the hundredth time as we made our way through the airport. Ah, the smell of the airport – always a pleasure to sniff.

"No," I said, prodding Gazzy on the nose. "You're not allowed to come! I told you, this workshop is made specifically for solo singers only!"

As we made our way to the departing center, Dad heaved my single suitcase off of the rolling cart and onto the ground. I didn't need much, anyway. I still had all of those frilly, girly clothes with uncut tags on them, still hanging in my closet back in Washington.

"Here you go, Ari," Dad said. "Please be safe."

I nodded, giving him a quick one-armed hug. Since Fang and Iggy were the only ones who were "complaining that they had a sudden severe stomach ache", only Gazzy and Dad were there to see me off.

Just before disappearing into behind the departure center, I whirled around, half expecting Fang to stand there with his hands in his pockets, smirking at me.

But obviously, he wasn't there. It was just hyperactive Gazzy, waving energetically at me.

_Max, stop it. You've got other things to worry about. _

And right now, the only thing I had to worry about was whether my next door passenger will have bad body odour or not.

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

As I continued to lie in my bed "with my severe stomach ache from last night's meal of bad lasagne", I started to feel lonelier than ever.

I mean, sure, it was nice to have Ari out of the house, meaning I wouldn't have to face the wrath of Iggy constantly, or feel intense awkwardness when Ari and my eyes meet.

But for some strange reason, the stillness of the house caused me to become the complete opposite of relaxed, which was to feel confusion and…tension.

Maybe it was because I had gotten used to Ari stomping around the house, yelling about how he often finds our socks in the strangest of places (Behind the television or in the fridge next to the roll of brie cheese), or his constant sneezes while vacuuming behind the sofa.

I missed Ari.

Fuck.

I needed to get out of the house, and when I mean "out of the house", I mean I need to take a vacation. Pronto.

"Not you, too!" Jeb groaned tiredly, face-palming himself. I swivelled my cup of coffee while continually listening to him ramble on and on about how 'this was not the perfect time to take a leave'. "First Ari, and now you!"

"I just need to take a small break," I objected quietly, refusing to look into his raging eyes. "It's not like losing _**TWO**_ members will do much, right?"

Jeb started to drum his fingers impatiently against the counter. With Gazzy and Iggy out of the house and doing something (For lack of a better phrase), it was easy for us to obtain privacy – something that was rarely attained in the villa of One Winged Angel. "Where do you plan on going?" He asked after several minutes of total silence, taking a quick drink from his own cup.

"Uh – I'm not too sure," I admitted. "Just somewhere...like...say..." Glancing at the mahogany bookshelf behind Jeb, my eyes seemed to follow the first yellow title that literally popped against the dark background.

It seemed to beckon me...as if telling me that it was the place to go for the time being.

"Washington?"

And thus, it resulted in getting covered in Jeb's half-swallowed black coffee, followed by a sputtering and muffled "_But you can't leave now!_"

I started to wipe my face with his coffee, smiling slightly. "Watch me."

* * *

"I swear, when you come home from your vacation, you're going to be in for some serious trouble, young man." Jeb grumbled, dumping my luggage onto the soiled ground – purposely on the spot where some woman probably had trouble breast-feeding her newborn, and milk was splattered everywhere.

What in the world was the matter with him! My God, he's impossible. Literally.

"You ought to be more careful with that," I warned, strapping on my backpack.

"Maybe I don't _**WANT**_ to," He snarled bitterly. I tilted my head to the side, completely confused. I was never going to comprehend what was bothering him.

"Are you still angry because I'm leaving?" I asked, rolling my eyes. Jeb only huffed like a toddler would when he couldn't get his way. I sense…childishness. "It's not like I'm going for a whole year, Jeb. I'm going to return after a week! That was the deal I made with the Prez, and I'm going to keep that."

"Sure, sure," He said, ignoring the logic and continuing to put on his childish pout. "Now go. Leave."

I only smirked as I tilted my hat and covered my eyes with the huge oversized shades that I borrowed from Gazzy. Shades: Please protect me for the next two weeks from any overly crazy and obsessed fans I may encounter.

"See ya in two weeks."

* * *

_**(Iggy's Point of View)**_

"C'mon, Ig! With Fang and Ari both out of the house, think of the party we can have! We'll be deemed like…the party masters!" Gazzy exclaimed, tugging on my arm as if it were a lengthy tug-of-war rope. "Y'know…just like how Ash Ketchum is deemed the Pokémon master! We'll be the party masters! It's been a **WEEK** since they've gone! Can't you cut it with trying to be the leader here, and actually have some fun for a change?"

"I thought you were addicted to Arthur," I said, raising an eyebrow. "You've moved on?"

"Of course!" Gazzy cried, giving me an energetic thumbs-up. "And besides, you've been acting so morbidly lonely recently."

"I don't need a party," I lied, though truthfully, I was in desperate need of some companionship (Don't say Gazzy, 'cause Gazzy's like a brother to me). "I need…"

"I know what you need! You need…a _**GIRL**_!" Gazzy declared, snapping his fingers brightly.

Girl – that word just brought pure disgust to my face. Okay, so I know I'm not cutting Max the slack that she deserves. I mean, I know love is a strange and bewildering issue that hormone-raging young adults face constantly, and I also realize I shouldn't take a rejection so horribly but – Max was my first love, after all.

"Maybe," I began slowly, drawling out the word. "And maybe not. I mean, come on, Gaz, I don't think there's any girl that is right for me at the moment." _Maybe Max…_

"You never know." Gazzy sing-sang with a slight hint of amusement in his voice. "Maybe the girl that you're looking for is just…standing right in front of you."

"What are you playing at?" I asked suspiciously, turning my head to look at the television screen that was currently broadcasting 4EvAir's interview about their next mini-album. I turned my head towards Gazzy in repulsion.

"You're asking me to date **ANGEL**!" I shrieked. "Hell no, man, Angel's gorgeous and a total sweetie pie, but don't you think she's a little bit too young for me?" Not to mention the fact that she's extremely gorgeous…I'm totally incapable of being matched up to her.

"No, idiot! The girl standing NEXT to Angel!" Gazzy corrected, sighing half-heartedly at me.

"You mean Ella?" I demanded, staring at my partner for the One Winged Angel and 4EvAir duet of I'm In Love. "No way! She's...a..."

To be honest, I didn't exactly know what I wanted to say. She was pretty, no doubt about that, she had such a kind yet tough and sarcastic personality that I find extremely attractive, and rumour has it that Ella knows how to make a mean apple pie...

I'm starting to feel myself blush. This isn't good.

"See? What did I tell you?" Gazzy asked, grinning from ear to ear. "You're going to like this girl!"

"But there has to be a mutual attraction," I argued, setting the television remote back onto the table beside the couch. "Ella might be the perfect girl, but am I attracted to her in the first place?"

_Hell yes, you are, Iggy. _

Before Gazzy could reply, however, the doorbell rung.

"That's odd," I questioned. "Who could that be?" Since Manager Jeb was out and about, chaperoning the Prez's nine-year-old nieces' birthday party, he wasn't supposed to be back yet (Besides, he has his own set of keys). We didn't request any technical help regarding our electricity, our heating, our lighting or all of our utilities...

And since we're so high up on the street, college students usually don't enjoy selling magazine subscriptions to us (Neither do newspaper carriers).

"I'll get it!" Gazzy interrupted, getting up and pushing me back down onto the sofa before I could do anything else. As soon as he stalked off into the hallway, however, he froze in absolute shock.

"What's up?" I teased, standing up and ruffling his messy dirty-blonde hair. "Cat got your tongue?" Looking at where he was staring at, I, too, was stunned to the point where I remained stationary.

"Isn't he supposed to be back a _**WEEK**_ later or something?" Gazzy asked after a moment of awkward silence of staring at the figure behind the door, pounding his fists.

"I..." Even I didn't have an answer for him at the moment. I was too dazed to reply, or react and call animal control – I didn't even make sense anymore. Did I just say animal control?

...

Cue the insanely high-pitched and terrified scream from Gazzy.

"**IT'S A DOPPELGANGER!**"

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

Breaks are probably one of the few things that an idol singer can obtain without difficulty. I mean, we're constantly working for our fans, the stupid paparazzi and many more that I refuse to list, but sometimes, we deserve a vacation.

We just do.

At first, I wasn't even sure why I chose my final destination as Washington. I mean, I could've picked some other place like Hawaii, Toronto or in really extreme cases, France, but looking through the tourist travel brochures, Washington just seemed the greatest place to go to.

I will...agree and disagree at the same time. I enjoy visiting the historical monuments and all that wonderful history of how America came to be, but sometimes...

Let's just say I don't have much of a love for an overwhelming overload of history.

However, I guess you can also say that the facts here have managed to keep Ari out of my mind for most of the trip, which was my ultimate goal. Albeit the truth that I was slightly lonely when he was away in New York and singing to his heart's content, I think the main reason I needed this vacation was because I wanted to get away from everything for awhile...

And it did work. I give all of my gratitude to the White House.

With my vacation coming to an end, I guess it's best that I just journey on my own and walk around the area. I like the quaintness. It's extremely peaceful.

Just as I was about to head out of the hotel for my second-to-last day in Washington, my hand brushed against something that was nestled deep in my backpack. Reaching in, I pulled out my cellphone: The exact same brand that Ari was using…

Why am I thinking about Ari NOW? Ugh, this isn't good. Should I text him anyway? I mean, I don't think it's going to waste any of my money anyway…I have texts to spend…

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

"Max, you are a **MESS**! I still cannot believe your father made you cut your hair to _THIS_ length!" My mother squealed horribly, tugging on the ends. I only smirked.

"That's just Dad," I explained simply, removing her hands from my hair before she could tug on them and make me bald. I was looking forward to the day I was going to return to Los Angeles. I couldn't deal with my mother's complaints any longer. "And I love my new boy cut! It's flippy, it's wispy, it's..." I can't believe I'm going to say this.

"It's cute."

My dainty mother, with her ecstatic, shining eyes, only sighed, adjusted the veil that was attached painfully to her head. "I don't see why you enjoyed spending your time in Los Angeles." She muttered sulkily. "What's so great about that place?"

_Fang, sunshine, Fang, good music, Fang, amazing food made from scratch without having to use boxed mixes of pancakes, Fang..._I think I made my point.

"Mm," I replied, completely uninterested.

"Max, you've changed." Mom finally got to her opinion. For the past week, I've been trying my best to accommodate to my mother's needs and walk to "blah blah blah" to get "blah blah blah" done, or drive to "blah blah blah" to do "blah blah blah" without a single complaint, but of course, that plan failed.

"For one, you're not really paying attention to any of your tasks. You're being extremely irresponsible by forgetting to respond to my e-mails when you were in Los Angeles, and you're being very rude." Mom continued snappily.

I only shrugged. Sure, that coming from Mom obviously hurt, but I couldn't disagree. "This dress sucks." I complained, tugging on the chiffon lace. "And my heels hurt. Couldn't I wear flats instead?"

"We're going to have a serious talk after the ceremony, young lady. Going to Los Angeles was a horrible idea. I knew your father was no good. He's such a bad influence." Mom scolded. "I'm not going to deal with your attitude right now, because it's my big day."

Okay, she's just going too far.

"You mean, your second big day." I pointed out, cracking my knuckles warningly. I'll admit: That was totally uncalled for, but what about her dissing Dad? I'm not going to accept that. I just can't. No one insults Dad, even if it IS Mom.

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

Reaching over the counter for my phone, I realized that I had a text message. From who, you ask?

_From: Fang_

_Sent on: September 22__nd_

_Hey. How's New York?_

With Mom giving me her famous death glares of doom from behind, I couldn't show off the glee that I had. Yes, Fang and I had our issues, but I was really glad he still took the time to show his concern for me. Well, for the male-impersonating me.

But in order to please my raging mother, I could only type a single sentence, which I knew would not please Fang at all. Not one bit.

_Good._

"I'm happy you understand what your current priorities are, Max," Mom replied coldly from in front of me, twisting the door knob with so much might she could've wrangled my head to the side with ease. "Now come on. We're leaving."

* * *

Robert's "adorable" young niece played all the wrong notes to the Wedding March. Come on, I could do a better job than that, but obviously, Mom didn't need to know that I managed to practice music when I was younger. The less she knew the better.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to…" The priest started to drone on and on, while I had to keep a grip on the bench to keep from falling asleep. The only thing that kept me awake was all of the engagement photographs that were taken a few days prior to the wedding, and it was due to the bold colouring.

Oh right, and the balloons. Apparently, Mom and Robert both wanted an 'Up'-inspired wedding ceremony – not that I'm complaining since I loved that movie, but still.

"Oh, my God, can't he just finish already? What does it take for two people to get married?" I mumbled under my breath while crossing my arms against my chest. A malicious spark that flew from Mom's eyes indicated that she heard me, and I only shook my head, shooting her the same look.

I was already furious with Mom from our little spat earlier on, so watching the googly-eyed fest between Mom and her new beau (AKA my new stepfather) was revolting.

"You may now exchange your rings," The priest finally wheezed after a brutal half-hour ceremony, excluding all of the wonderful speeches given. Thank God.

Right after the ceremony was over and everyone had piled outside to get their photographs with the beloved bride and groom 'that were a match made in Heaven' and 'would produce such angelic children' (Didn't she inform her new in-laws that she ALREADY had two children to begin with?), Mom grasped my hand just as I was about to exit.

"Ow!" I cried out, wrenching my hand away. "What?"

"That's it, Maximum," Mom said, breathing heavily with small beads of sweat running down her forehead. Thank goodness for waterproof make-up, otherwise, I don't know how she won't be able to terrify the living daylights out of her guests. "I've had it with your attitude. You're just like your father! Tell me what's wrong, otherwise, I'm not going to - "

I snorted, crossing my arms against my chest. "What were you going to say? You're not going to let me go back to Los Angeles? Sorry to burst your bubble, Mom, but I am going back, no matter what you say."

Mom's eyes widened in unhappiness and astonishment, and as much as I wanted to console her and apologize for my attitude, I couldn't bring myself to do it. "Sorry, Mom," I said, patting her shoulder awkwardly. "I…I don't know what - "

"Just go." Mom interrupted, waving me away while leaning against the stone wall. "Leave me alone for now."

I must've hurt her pretty badly…and I know that it was my fault. A mixture of emotions started to flood in my stomach, but instead of turning to talk to the figure that was standing while thumbing her tears, I walked the opposite direction towards the crowded courtyard.

"Max, where's your mother? Some of her college friends want a few photos!" Robert said as soon as he caught sight of me. I pointed my thumb towards the church, and he scurried inside. That was when I knew I didn't have to fuss about Mom.

Robert could fix Mom with one of his 'magical kisses' any day.

Things just weren't working in my favour today. First, the issue with my mother, and second, an addition to the first issue with my mother. Are you seeing a pattern here? I sighed while scratching the strange bump forming on the side of my neck.

I knew that god damn perfume was up to no good, yet my MOM seemed to think that it would capture my essence. Please. She doesn't know anything about me – including my allergy to sprays as intense as this one. I smell like something just died. How pleasant.

Maybe I just needed to take a short walk. And maybe I'll text Fang again...maybe.

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

I wasn't a happy camper after I received Ari's text. Call me obnoxious and demanding, but how would **YOU** feel if you received a one-worded text? To be completely honest, the dude could've sent me something _MORE_ than just 'good'.

'Good' could mean anything! Good as in…good weather? Good musicians to spend time with? Good…what in the world did he mean by that!

"Thanks," I murmured to the taxi cab driver, handing him the fee with his tips. As soon as I got out, I breathed in the fresh air. It was an extremely beautiful day in Washington, even for September. It was nice for…for…

"A wedding?" I asked myself, completely bemused. Was there even a church around - ?

Oh. There it is.

Well, nothing wrong to end my vacation with a snapshot of the bride and groom, right? I reached into my backpack for another one of my fancy gadgets: my iPod touch.

…No, there isn't a crime for trying to record a fantastic moment of love. Stop calling me a creep.

However, just when I was adjusting the camera into view, my eyes caught sight of something else that was walking along in the left corner of the background, arms crossed, face slightly fumed on an otherwise pretty (Not to mention familiar) face.

She could look angelic, clad in her strapless pale lavender dress with her matching shawl and the boyish haircut, but her frown spoke otherwise.

My raised arm started to lower as I continually squinted at the petite figure walking hastily away from the church. There was something really uncanny about this…what…there's just something super strange…I can't…I mean…

I don't even –

My fingers started to wrap around my cellphone, and unmistakably, they also dialled the number that I had just texted. Whilst watching the figure, my cellphone started to dial…

And (Call it déjà vu), that young girl started to scour her own purse for her cellphone…which rang the extremely recognizable ring tone of "Promise".

I didn't even need to think twice. That Cyon Ice-Cream cellphone…that ring tone that I had set for Ari…

But I wasn't completely sure yet. I just needed one more confirmation.

"…Fang? What's up?" The small piece of jewellery started to glint off of her slender fingers. Hang on, wasn't that the ring that I had given Ari that day when he fainted and had to go to the hospital?

"Ari?" I said, my walking speed increasing slightly as I neared the girl, who was currently scratching her head in confusion. "Where are you right now?" I could literally hear my heart started to thud intensely. From excitement? From anticipation?

Perhaps…perhaps it was even anger, but no matter what, I needed to see it with my own eyes.

"Um, I'm…I'm – " Ari's voice stammered over the phone, but it was all that I needed.

I knew it.

I flipped my phone shut, and reaching out with my hand, I yanked the figure towards me, who stared at me with incredulous (Not to mention horrified) eyes that I could recognize any day. She continued to gaze, awestruck, at me.

I knew I looked just as overwhelmed as her, but since I was Fang, I got to my point quickly.

"It's you, Ari. Isn't it?"

* * *

**DUNDUNDUNDUNNNNNNNN! YES! The moment that most of you have been waiting for...has FINALLY occurred! Fang has discovered that Max is, indeed, a girl! What's going to happen next? OH MY, THE SUSPENSE! Haha, I'm just kidding XP Anyways, I hope all of you enjoyed Chapter 17! I hope it wasn't too disappointing though...BUT tell me, did you enjoy reading that? Send me a review! C: **

**Here are your shout-outs!**

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**Woo, that's a long list. LOL XD But thank-you, nonetheless! Wanna add your name to the list? C: Please feel free to send me your comments! With June coming, the weather's getting hotter. Eep, I'm definitely feeling it in Canada XD Haha. Hope you guys have a fantastic remainder of May (Just a few days LOL) and a great June! See ya soon!**

**Luff,**

**Sam C: **


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey dudes and dudettes! It's Sam C: here, finally updating after about one month! I'm very sorry for the delay :C June has just been super hectic for me, with all of the events and finals and everything, but don't worry! I'm back, and giving you a rather long chapter today to make up for the wait! You have been super patient with me, and I have to thank-you so, so much for understanding. C:**

**I actually have two announcements today. One is good, and the other...well...is probably both bad and good (Depends on how you look at it!) We'll start off with the first, shall we?**

**Okay, number one: I have officially graduated from high school! C: Yes, yes, I am no longer a high school student anymore. I will be attending university in the Fall. To those who are just beginning or are halfway through high school, enjoy it! Cherish it! Take too many pictures, laugh too many laughs and smile too many smiles. Before you know it, four years of your life will disappear just like that, and you won't ever get it back, so enjoy the time you have! :DD**

**Number Two: I'm very sorry to say that "My Fair Lady" is officially coming to an end. I have two more chapters left to write, but I'll make them just as dramatic as many of my previous Chapters LOLOL. XD I have to say...I don't think I could've continued this story without your support or your reviews. I just want to take the time to give a big thank-you for helping my story reach um...310 or 311 (Something like that! XD) reviews! I love you all. C:**

**This will conclude my rather long Author's Note! Shall we commence?**

**Angel - You graduated! Congratulations! C:  
Sam C: - Aww, fank-kyuu Angel!  
Fang - Pft. Who cares?  
Sam C: - Uh, obviously...not you. I don't care about you, anyway.  
****Max - Aww, my little Sammy is all grown up. Sniff, sniff...:C  
Gazzy - And not only that, this story is ALMOST OVER! :CCCC  
Iggy - I'm going to cry manly tears...  
Fang - ...Pardon me?  
Iggy - These are MANLY TEARS! MANLY, I TELL YOU!  
Sam C: - You keep telling yourself that, honey.  
Total - On with the story!**

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

There are just those little moments in life when you know you're totally screwed, and I mean 'screwed to the point that you won't come out from the battle unscathed' type.

This is one of them. Isn't it just lovely?

With all the strength I could muster (May I also add that I'm wearing a frilly dress and heels that actually declined my superior athletic ability by twenty five percent), I tried to back Fang behind the thick wooden trunk of a large tree, but it was no use.

Fang's sneakers sank deep into the muddy earth, which meant that I needed the strength of a football player to push him. Besides, my bridesmaid dress wasn't store-bought. It was rented. I highly doubt Mom would want to pay extra for the damages I had done.

The nerve of the dick! Think you can use his free arm to form a caged prison around my body, eh? "You shouldn't run away from your problems, Ari. You know that escaping just complicates things." He whispered quietly, his breath extremely hot near my ear.

Actually, scratch that. Even his body was radiating off immense heat, and I could literally feel myself starting to burn up like a stupid tomato from our close proximity.

God damn hormones…in fact, it's not just the endorphins I want to condemn to Hell; it's EVERYTHING.

"Can we talk about this later?" I begged, my voice wheedling. Yeah, I'm sure this is a total surprise. To be completely honest, you'd never see a begging-on-the-knee Maximum Ride. I mean, it's me. I don't beg. I don't plead…unless it's required in extreme circumstances.

"Why?" Fang asked again, his tone demanding. "Afraid that your mother is going to see us together?"

"No!" I exclaimed stubbornly, whirling around. "I'm just – "

…Aw, fuck.

It was at this moment when I realized how close the two of us were. Our lips were pretty much grazing against each other's, our noses were touching at the tips, and adding the fact that Fang had his arms around me…ugh, the butterflies just didn't feel good in my stomach.

I actually feel like barfing. In his face. Heh, that'd be a pretty sight, don't you think?

I mean, of course you'd call me crazy. I'm not afraid to confess that this would be my idea of perfection. Hell, it would be any females' idea of perfection!

But I know what's important and what's not, and uh…even I'm upset at bursting my own bubble…but now isn't the time to be day-dreaming about make out sessions. And that is…**IF** I ever get a chance to engage in fiery and passionate old-fashioned necking with Fang (With the possibility ranging from zero decimal zero one percent to none).

The worst part of this entire ordeal? Fang didn't even make a move to retreat. He just stood there, motionless like a rock. Well, a pretty smoking rock.

"You know," Fang began, tilting his head to the side. "As a girl, you give off a nicer scent than Ari did back at the villa."

Okay, what. The fuck. He just recently discovered my true identity, and instead of scolding me until his voice grows hoarse, he's FLIRTING with me? What in the world was going on in his head right now!

"…Why are you even here?" I asked softly, averting my gaze so I didn't have to glance at him.

"Am I not allowed to be here?" He demanded bitterly, releasing his arms so I could step back slightly. "It's all because of you. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have to come to Washington in the first place!"

He pointed a finger against my chest, tapping angrily. "How the hell is it my fault? You can't blame me for everything!" I fought back, narrowing my eyes.

"I didn't even _**WANT**_ to go on vacation, but I ended up going. You know why? Because I kept on thinking things that I shouldn't have thought!" Fang exclaimed, his face growing red from the excessive yelling.

"What thoughts?" I mocked, raising a suspicious eyebrow. "Perverted, horny thoughts about the Red-Haired Rip or Secretary Fantastic back in Los Angeles?" Uh oh, maybe I pushed it a little bit too far…but…

Thoughts of the 'Black and White' performance started to play back painfully in my brain, especially the small make out session that Lissa and Fang had on stage, recorded live and played across the nation on various channels.

I started to shake my head in disgust. I just couldn't forget that. My brain wasn't programmed well enough to trash unnecessarily disturbing memories into the garbage.

"No, idiot," He growled ferociously under his breath. "I was – " Before he could continue on with his sentence, however, a shout from afar caught my attention.

"Head's up!"

"Holy sh – ! Rainbows everywhere!" I shouted in surprise, staggering back a few steps and (Lucky, lucky me) stepping onto my overly long dress, followed by an extremely distressing loud rip.

…You could guess what had happened next. Actually, don't guess. Even I was caught off guard.

Strong arms started to snake around my waist, keeping me from falling onto the cold and wet pavement. I opened one bleary eye to catch a glimpse of my sullen-faced saviour. "You really shouldn't wear heels. It just makes you ten times as clumsy." He commented, slightly amused.

"Shut your face. I can take care of myself." I retorted.

"Alright then," Fang said, releasing his grip on me, allowing me to collapse onto the ground, ripping my dress even more so and breaking the heels off of my borrowed stilettos.

…Mom wasn't going to be too overjoyed with me.

"You could have at least **WAITED** until I recovered before letting me go, asshole," I shouted, kicking off my heels and getting to my feet. I yanked his dangling arm and took a ferocious bite.

Mmm, now if only you could barbeque this. Then, everything would be so much more delicious.

Slam your brakes and stop with the jabbering pitchforks! I'm kidding – what do you take me for? A cannibal?

"Ow! Let go, you imbecile!" Fang yelped in pain, jerking his hand free. "What the fuck, are you crazy or something?"

I only grinned maliciously at the small puncture wounds, watching drops of blood start to gush through. Fang, noticing my evil smile, only shook his head in disappointment, muttering strange phrases like 'And so the dark raven has fallen prey to the rabid white dog' and 'God has tampered with my logical-thinking brain'.

…If he's trying to woo me with his intellect, he better stop plagiarizing by altering quotes from that stupid vampire romance novel.

"White dog? What? You're going to toss me a bone next?" I asked uncertainly, crossing my arms against my chest.

"No, you stupid hare-brained idiot," Fang grumbled, holding up his opposite unwounded hand. "I suppose the flash of colours you were squealing about was from this."

"Is it Nyan Cat?" Oh, my God, what a retarded question. Looking down from his burning eyes, I only stared at the object that was held in Fang's hand.

It was Mom's bouquet of elaborately-coloured roses: Pale lavender, bright pink, sky blue, lemony yellow – you name it. Every single colour of the rainbow was there. Hmm, now that I mention rainbows, I wonder what her inspiration was?

Probably the rainbow-crapping feline.

"Congratulations," Fang said in a monotone voice. "You are the next in line to get married."

Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

1. I am **NOT** planning to get married at the age of eighteen.

2. I don't think I'll even reach nineteen years old, for who knows how many single middle-aged bachelorettes are going to stab me with their kitchen knives for taking away their last glimmer of hope that they will get eloped in the next year or two?

3. How likely is it that you receive flowers from the love of your life?

4. Oh, crap, did I just say love of my life?

5. …Did I just say MY life?

6. ….Fuck my life.

And the thundering footsteps from my mother's heels aren't helping improve the situation at all.

"Honey, please refrain from walking too far away from the wedding party! And what in the world happened to your dress? I hope you understand that I'm not liable in paying for your own clothes!"

All I hear is 'blah, blah, blah' and more 'blah, blah, blah'.

"You are in – " And this is the part where I know Fang's aviator-covered eyes have met with Mom's dazzling emerald gems: The only thing that I am truly envious of my mother for.

"Oh, my! Max, who is your friend?" Mom asked shrilly, her voice several pitches higher than normal. I only scratched my head.

"I have no idea who he is, but whatever you're thinking…don't think it." I warned.

Mom only ignored me. Typical.

"Excuse me, young man. It's very nice to meet you, but I was watching the two of you arguing rather…" Mom exchanged glances between the two of us, and then back at Fang.

I hope Mom realizes that I can see the three-dimensional hot pink hearts erupt from her eyes. That mental image is so, so wrong on so many levels.

"Passionately…"

_**PASSIONATELY?**_ I started to snort uncontrollably. "Is that – that the only adjective you know?" I asked between short breaths of laughter.

"Well, it's true. Max, I don't wish to be your romance counsellor, but did you know that heated, fervent arguments are signs of excellent chemistry and love?" Mom asked, removing a few fallen leaves from her veil.

She did not just say that. I stopped laughing at that moment, mostly because I was choking on my own spit.

"Mom, you should consider reading magazines that are suitable for your own age." I sighed. "Please tell me you've cancelled your subscription to Seventeen, or so help me I'm going to their headquarters in New York to burn it down."

You know I'm going to do it. You know I will.

"So young man," Mom began again, (Once again, paying no sort of attention to her beloved daughter) extending her gloved hand. "May I ask who you are, and what type of relation you have with my daughter? It is quite a surprise to see her…with a man of your calibre."

Oh, great. She's down-grading me. I'll have her know that I'm worth ten of Fang any day!

On second thought…thanks a lot for being the supportive mother that you are.

Syke.

It's now that I can see why Fang was voted 'Most Charming' in Seventeen. He's practically oozing in charisma that Mom would find adoring in a son-in-law, and something I would find absolutely revolting in a boyfriend.

Fang eagerly took Mom's hand, shaking it with a firm grip while shooting her a dazzling smile. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Ms. Ride. My name is F – "

Uh oh. It's time to meet to intervene into this conversation.

"Finnick," I finished lamely, stomping on Fang's foot painfully. "Uh, yeah, Finnick…Robertson. He's…a…university student I met when I was at the basketball convention. He's actually from Los Angeles." Lies come out easier than I thought. Good on me.

"Why didn't you tell me about Finnick?" Mom's voice dropped down to nothing but a mere whisper. "He is so delightful and captivating, and from my observations, the two of you are perfect for each other!"

"Mom!" I groaned. "What in the world are you talking about? Did you not SEE me bite him? Look!" I raised Fang's injured arm and pointed at the evidence to prove that we were not a match made in Heaven.

"And that is exactly one of the reasons why men always avoided you." Mom stated matter-of-factly.

And we interrupt my mother's complaints of my tomboy attitude with sniggers from Mister Tall, Dark and Handsome himself. I shot him a death glare to silence him, but it only made his fits of laughter even worse.

"Well, Finnick, it has been a pleasure meeting you! May I ask where you are staying?"

…Why does my mother never listen to a word I say? You know what, when Washington has an earthquake and she's in her room doing nasty stuff with Robert, I'm not going to warn her since she'll be too preoccupied anyway.

"Mom," I interrupted with gritted teeth. "We aren't going out! How many times do I have to say it?"

"Uh, actually, Max," Fang pointed out. "You only said it once."

…Jackass.

Mom eyed the sudden body contact between the two of us and smiled secretively to herself. I have no idea what's in her head…and I don't want to find out.

"I'm actually staying at Hotel Sofitel at Lafayette Square." Fang said. "I'll be leaving back home the next day."

"Well, why don't you stay with us? It'll be more convenient since Max is leaving for Los Angeles the next day too! I'll be leaving on my honeymoon, so – "

No.

No. No.

No. No. **NO!**

* * *

"I'm still amazed at how your air-headed mother can't recognize me." Fang mumbled to me as we clambered onto the transit bus that would take us right to the front entrance of Hotel Sofitel.

I gotta say, Fang sure knows how to pick convenient **AND** excellent accommodation when going on trips. Hotel Sofitel is one of the most renowned hotels, famous for its superior customer service and fancy schmancy chocolates that they put on the pillows.

"Don't push it." I said, feeling refreshed after my quick shower and quick exchange of clothes (Sweatpants, a hoodie, a toque and a scarf – the perfect combination). "We're lucky that my mom can't recognize you, otherwise, she'll be dying to say that…" I coughed, getting ready to imitate her. "'My daughter has a famous celebrity boyfriend' at her dinner tonight."

"Don't you have to go?" Fang asked, setting his feet onto the back of someone else's seat.

"Nah. She won't miss me one bit."

Out of the corner of my eye, however, I noticed that Fang was staring at me. Like…not that creepy, eerie stalker kind of way, but the rather affectionate, 'I'm going to be the guy and apologize, since guys often make false assumptions' kind.

No, wait a second; I think I need new contacts. Yeah, that's it.

"What's up with the staring?" I grumbled, holding my scarf closer to my face as several teenagers in 'I Heart Ari' t-shirts clambered aboard, gushing about how 'adorably sexy' I looked while performing. What an oxymoron…

"You do realize that I'm still upset with you, right? I'm not going to forgive you that easily." Fang muttered.

"Why are you even upset? This has nothing to do with you. It doesn't affect you in any way." I spat.

"What do you mean 'it has nothing to do with you'?" Fang asked, his tone growing sharper by the syllable. "It has everything to do with me. Not only am I your band mate, I'm your leader. I should have the right to know every single detail about my members."

"Oh, yeah?" I sneered. "Then, do you know what Gazzy's favourite book is?"

"Er…" Fang started to scratch his head in a confused manner. "Harry Potter? The Hunger Games?"

"He doesn't have one, 'cause he doesn't read, my dear Finnick." I finished dully, leaning my head against the window. "You don't know anything about Iggy, Gazzy or me – and you claim to be the leader too."

"Look," He said sharply. "I don't want to have another argument with you."

"Oh, yeah, because idle and peaceful chatter is what we always end up in." I snorted, gesturing towards the 'act of love' on his bandaged arm.

"Max," Fang began. This is one of those awkward moments when butterflies start to churn in your stomach, and instead of making you want to puke, they feel so damn good. I kind of…maybe…really…loved how he said my name.

Urgh – those damn hormones…

"I'm willing to listen to what you have to say, but you need to stop talking back with your remarks. I'm not obliged to hear your story, but I'm going to because I – " Fang only looked at me for a few moments before shaking his head. "Forget it."

"You…what?" I asked curiously. The bus came to a sudden halt and due to the inertia (With the retarded bus driver driving at speeds of eighty miles per hour), I felt my body fall onto Fang's lap.

"Eep!" I shrieked slightly. Wow, Fang actually smells…really good. _Maximum Ride, stop inhaling the scent of your band mate and get up! It's embarrassing and people are going to wonder what the hell the two of you are doing back there!_

Awkward position plus awkward stares equals embarrassingly awkward moments.

"Get up," Fang said gruffly. "We're there."

* * *

When the two of us stepped into the toasty building, one of the concierges at the front door (In his nifty-looking uniform) shot both Fang and I a pleasant smile. Heh, now I know why Hotel Sofitel was given four and a half stars. The remaining half? I have no clue where it went.

I was dying to take my hood off, but then again, I eyed the suspicious pile of entertainment tabloids stacked neatly beside the front counter with big bold lettering reading 'One Winged Angel' on the front…and never gave it a second thought again.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Robertson. Oh! And you brought a lady friend! How…er…lovely…" The lady at the front desk said as cheerfully as she could, eyeing me from head to toe with a superior smile set on her face.

Usually, I'd let this go, but today, I'm feeling pretty beat up.

Did I forget to mention her overly busty chest that was dying to pop out from her dress shirt, and her pencil skirt that just seemed too short for work length? On the bright side, I'm still taller than her, and she's wearing three inch heels.

Bah. Who am I kidding?

"Good afternoon, Dana," Fang said politely behind the scarf. "I'm going to be checking out today."

"Were our accommodations not suitable for you?" Linda asked with unnecessary concern, placing a hand against her chest for dramatic effect. Drama queens – just gotta hate them. "Or was it the type of chocolate that we left on your pillows? We have a huge assortment and I'm sure we can – "

"I'm checking out today, and that's final." Fang said sternly, putting an end to the conversation. Linda started to eye the two of us suspiciously, and then nodded curtly at Fang, all signs of politeness and flirtatious winks gone.

"I'll be here to collect your key later." Dana muttered, narrowing her eyes evilly at me, delivering the glare of death at the same time. Gosh, if looks could kill, it was definitely this.

It took me a full five seconds to recover from the daggers that were continually poking into my flesh. Fang nudged me painfully in the ribs. "Come on."

"Did you see that?" I whispered as we squeezed ourselves into the elevator. "Your fair lady is probably plotting my death right now!"

"Pay no attention," Fang replied almost lazily. "She does that to every single female that has some sort of interaction with me."

I only shrugged, and as soon as the elevator rang its familiar ding at floor thirteen, the two of us stepped out, earning disapproving gazes from the elderly couple that were standing behind us.

"Everybody at this hotel seems to think we're about to have intercourse or something similar," I said, face-palming myself. "They really need a reality check."

"They're over-reacting and making a mountain out of a mole hill, but you can't put the blame on our fellow guests. You are too. Just ignore it. It's not like…" Fang shot me a seductive smirk after sliding the scarf down an inch. "We're going to do anything up here, in a secluded room."

I rolled my eyes, pushing him gently. "You flirt too much."

* * *

Unbeknownst to the wandering pair, who was currently seen bickering about where the male had left his card key, the elevator bell rang once more. A young adult – no older than twenty-one years old with a reporting cap on her blonde head, a camera and a notepad tucked into the back pocket of her battered jeans – crept quietly behind the wall.

"Didn't I tell you before? Always keep your necessary items in your pocket!" The girl, with her hood on to conceal her identity, snapped, making a wild grasp for the male's backpack.

"You never did." He pointed out huffily, tugging on a strap from his backpack. "Besides, what's the rush?"

The dim lamps casted long shadows against the wall, but with the two engaged in their heated argument, they didn't notice anything at all.

Adjusting the lens slightly, she started to snap photograph after photograph of the couple. A triumphant smile started to appear on her face, because she knew that the pictures she had just captured would grant her a raise at work.

It was the life of a paparazzi reporter. Sometimes, she felt pity and sympathy for those she had to take candid shots of, as well as making up wild and crazy stories that weren't true about these celebrities.

And sometimes, there were days when she wished she could've worked for a different tabloid. One that actually reported the truth, one that reported things objectively without any one-sided opinions added into it.

But today wasn't one of those days. And she wasn't going to make up any fiction. This was going to be a fact-based story…a very fact-based story, indeed.

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

"Mom's not home. Perfect," I said, smiling to myself slightly as we arrived at the front door of Mom's house, panting slightly. I glanced back at Fang, dripping beads of sweat and squatting rather uncomfortably. "Dude, you okay?"

"What do you think?" He asked sarcastically, panting heavily and gesturing towards his stuffed duffel bag and designer suitcase.

I only grinned cheekily, messing up his damp fringe. "I'm dainty. Sue me." Reaching into my front pocket for my keys, I inserted them into the lock and twisted.

The house was eerily quiet when we got inside. Awesome. I always loved having the house to myself, despite the silence. I'd either huddle into a ball in my room, reading a fantastic book, or I'd clean the house (Since Mom rarely does).

But there were signs that Mom dropped by after her wedding. Left on the kitchen counter was a very illegible note.

_Max:_

_I decided to stay over at Robert's tonight. After the dinner, I won't be coming back home. Don't worry about your eccentric mother; I'm going to be alright. Help yourself to whatever you want in the fridge! _

_Love, Mom_

_P.S. I just wanted to apologize for my rudeness today at the wedding ceremony. I guess I was just too excited for my wedding and it must've felt like I was isolating you, wasn't I? Anyway, I'm sorry. _

Isolation? I call it 'freedom to grant me my sanity from Mom and her craziness'. But I guess it was nice of her to write this little note anyway…

Just as I was about to pocket the note, and suddenly heard a strange grunting noise behind me. Oh, crap, I momentarily forgot that Fang was invited over to our house to sleep for the night.

And that was when I also noticed a small P.P.S. underneath the P.S.

_P.P.S. I cannot believe you kept Finnick a secret from me! I'm very glad I met him. He seems to be a fine, young gentleman and I'm sure that he treats you like a princess. Finnick's also one of the reasons why I decided to sleep at Robert's tonight…you get what I mean, right? Read one of my Seventeen magazines on the table and you'll see why!_

"Where should I put this?" Fang asked behind me.

"I don't know," I muttered, completely baffled that my mother would actually write something like this. "Put it wherever you want."

Hmm, then again, this was no ordinary woman we're talking about here. This is Valencia Martinez-Smith. I have no intentions of shrinking myself to go inside her head and read what her thoughts are. Her thoughts can be rather…disturbing sometimes.

"Where shall I be sleeping tonight? Or rather…I don't think I'll be getting any sleep, considering the fact that you still have to explain."

"You're quite the mellow fellow." I commented airily, opening up the closet to find some spare blankets. "When Iggy found out, he went berserk, going on and on about why my initially flat, grassy plain erupted volcanoes."

Fang seemed to have tripped on his own suitcase, because a severe outburst of vulgarities sounded right after the loud thump. "Holy shit! What did you just say?"

"I said," I began again, spreading the covers over the sofa and placing a squashy pillow right next to the layers. "When – "

"I heard what you said!" Fang snapped. "So let me get this straight: Iggy found out about your secret identity first?" He's not taking it too well, is he?

"What'd you expect? You know Iggy's a pervert," I scoffed. "He's been dying to touch my chest since the first day I got to the villa, impersonating as Ari!"

"Was it…was it the day I walked in on the two of you kissing at the porch?" Fang asked. Although his voice managed to conceal it, his eyes were literally popping with anxiety.

"Er…yeah, I guess." I said. "Things just seem to blow out of proportion when each of you found out that I was actually a girl."

"I'm guessing Gazzy doesn't know," Fang hypothesized. Wow, he is a genius. Note the sarcasm.

"Of course he doesn't, you dolt. Gazzy's too preoccupied with his Arthur episodes to even give me a second glance." Not that it really mattered, anyway. Okay, I'm lying. If Gazzy never spoke to me again…yeah, I don't know what I would do, actually. He's a cute kid.

"I'm sorry if the accommodations aren't exactly four and a half stars," I said, watching him examine the blankets gingerly. Yeah, uh, truth be told, I didn't know when Mom bought them…or when the she washed them was.

Oh well. I'm sure they're comfy. I hope.

"No worries. It'll do."

…Anybody notice how awkward we are? It's like…we're like a really awkward married couple that just got into a huge fight, and the husband is off sleeping in the den while I get to occupy the master bedroom.

Something is tampering with my brain. I need to do something else that requires my full attention; otherwise I'm going to start blabbering about random topics, such as marriage, matrimony, love…you get my idea.

"I'm going…to…um…take a shower…to get rid of…the bacteria I picked up from the bus! Yeah, those transit buses…you have no idea who sits in them…" I finished as boisterously as I could, and then escaped up into the bathroom, wondering how retarded I must've looked.

* * *

I am probably the biggest idiot known to human kind. In fact, I'm probably the biggest idiot known to existence.

I forgot to bring in an extra set of pyjamas...and a towel too. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem. I have been known to walk freely in the empty household after a shower, into my room to change if I overlooked something.

Today is an exception, because of my surprise guest downstairs.

"Ugh, kill me now," I muttered under my breath. I only had two options here. Either I stay in the bathroom for the duration of the night, wait until Fang's fast asleep (Though I truly doubt he'll find the sofa lumpy enough) and then change.

Or Plan B: I could sprint to my room (Which was about ten feet away from the bathroom) and then slam the door shut before Fang could run up here and ask what the hell just happened.

Or Plan C (Which I also think is the most sensible plan out of all of them): I call Fang up here, have him laugh at me for a full five minutes and then ask him to bring clothes in for me.

…Urgh.

"Fang, can you come up here please?"

* * *

Something was wrong.

In fact, something was very wrong. No matter how much I called, Fang never came upstairs to aid me in my clothing mishap. "Where the hell did you go?" I muttered under my breath.

Looks like I'm going to have to go with Plan B…

With a full burst of speed, I sprinted as quickly as I could into my room. Or tried to, anyway…because I ended up colliding with a very tall, very muscular black wall.

Needless to say, it hurt. A lot.

After a minute of absorbing the pain, I opened one bleary eye to see that I was lying, stark naked and shivering from the shower, on top of Fang, who was also staring at me in amazement.

…

Fuck.

"**OH, MY GOD! WHY THE HELL ARE YOU NAKED?**" Fang yelled shrilly, completely frozen in a state of shock.

"**OH, MY GOD! GET UP! GET UP! NOW! COVER YOUR EYES! _NOW!_**" I screamed, flailing my arms widely (And whacking him in the nose in the process).

"**HOW CAN I GET UP WHEN YOU'RE LYING ON TOP OF ME**?"

Good point.

"**THEN COVER YOUR EYES! HOLY CRAP! DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME CALLING FOR YOU JUST NOW?**" I started to crawl downward, leaving Fang's arms free of obstruction. Hurriedly, I sprinted into my room and pulled on an ancient t-shirt and shorts.

Even though I was fully clothed, I _STILL_ felt naked. This is some messed up psychology. For extra protection, I wrapped one of my fleece blankets around myself.

…Holy crap. I can't believe…why the hell he was upstairs in the first place! Does he NOT know any manners?

"Oh, so you're finally done?" Fang asked bitterly once I opened the door. I glanced at him with the same amount of resentment, but my eyes immediately softened once I saw the trail of blood running down his nose.

"We've got to get you fixed up. Come on." I said immediately, tugging on his arm and leading him downstairs.

There's something funny that I can't even explain. Just now, when we had our little…encounter (So to speak), all I was worried about was whether Fang had seen anything. I mean, I'm a girl. I deserve privacy!

But watching the metallic-tasting liquid drip from his nostrils…all previous thoughts had vanished, replaced with only worry.

Though both of us might not be on the same page right now, I couldn't deny the fact that I still care about the asshole.

* * *

Even though I told Fang that I was extremely tired and stressed from the ordeal, I couldn't sleep. No matter how hard I tried to drift into darkness, something would always wake me.

It was either the stupid crow, cawing outside, or some late night joggers with their stupid expensive runners shuffling against the park roads that haven't been fixed in about five years.

I continued to toss and turn, eventually throwing the blanket off of me and onto the floor. I was planning on finishing one of my books on my bedside table, but…

A knock on my bedroom door startled me, and I immediately gripped my lamplight as a weapon. But then, I realized it was probably just Fang. I mean, who else could it be? My mom?

"Come in," I called.

The door squeaked open.

"Missed me?"

My eyes widened in shock. "Mom? You're here? I thought you were staying at Robert's tonight!"

Mom, still looking beautiful from her perfect make-up, smiled fondly at me. "I still have a few items I need to pick up. I'm leaving for the airport tomorrow morning and won't be coming back home, so I thought I'd drop by and say good-bye."

Mom walked towards me, and seated herself on the side of my bed. She reached for my hand and stroked it gently. "Besides, I have something that I would like to talk to you about."

Ugh, I know what it's about. "Is it about Finnick?"

"Honey, you don't have to lie anymore," She said, removing the bobby pins from her elaborate hairstyle. Uh oh, what did she mean by that? "I know, for a fact, that the person sleeping on the couch right now isn't Finnick Robertson."

"…" All I could do was remain silent.

"He's Fang Robertson, leader of One Winged Angel, isn't he?"

I sighed in defeat. "How did you guess?"

"Max, I am your mother for a reason." Mom laughed airily, stroking my hair gently. "I only went with the flow, pretending that he was Finnick Robertson, just so my girlfriends wouldn't go ballistic on him."

"You are too kind," I murmured under my breath. "Well…the secret's out. I am, in fact, acquainted with Fang Robertson. What do you want to ask? I'll give you five questions."

"Alright then, but actually, I don't even need five. I just need three." Mom said. The best thing about Mom is that she accepts any of my deals, with negotiations of course, but these are very simple ones. Nothing over the top. "But in return, you have to tell me the truth, and the whole truth for that matter!"

"Deal. Hit me with your first question."

"I was watching the two of you interact just as I was getting ready to throw the wedding bouquet. Are you two…dating?"

I didn't even know what to reply with. I guess the answer would be no…but on the other hand, I am, for certain, he has some feelings for me. Am I right, or am I right?

"Right now," I said softly. "I don't even know."

"Second question then," Mom said. Wow, she doesn't waste any time, does she? "How did the two of you meet?"

_Hmm, long story, Mom, but I'll tell you the short version: Ari ran off to Paris with his model-turned-gold-digger girlfriend, and Dad, fearing that he might get fired from his job as manager, asked me to become Ari's replacement. There's so much drama in between, I actually felt like I was in an episode of Pretty Little Liars or Gossip Girl. Yeah, uh, that's pretty much it._

There was no way I was going to say. I mean, what would my mother reply with?

_How could your father make you do something like this! Nope, that's it. I'm not letting you go to Los Angeles anymore._

Now that would be a terrible, terrible thing.

Then again, I still had to own up to my bargain.

"It's a long story, Mom, and it can't be told within half an hour. I'll tell you…when everything is resolved."

"Last question, and answer me very honestly please," Mom said. I only nodded, staring just as earnestly into her eyes, wondering what that question could be.

_Could you get me his autograph? It's for Robert's niece!_

_What size does he wear, and by size, I mean his underwear size._

_What is his deepest, darkest secret?_

"Are you in love with him?"

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

It's not the sofa's fault. It's just me. I have been tossing and turning for the past half hour, wanting to sleep but can't. I glanced up the flight of staircases and at the first closed door on the right.

Was she awake right now?

Or is she, like me, unable to fall asleep?

As weary as I was from today, I still couldn't doze off into dreamland. I mean, today, I discovered that Max is…in fact…a girl (That would explain her sudden stomach aches during practice time) and I saw her extremely fit figure, completely naked.

Uh…scratch that. Forget I said it completely.

At first, I was actually quite shocked and upset with Max. I expected more trust between us, and I mean, I do deserve the right to be angry, right? She lied to all three of us, and I mean…

To put it bluntly, she MADE me gay. That, my friends, is enough to be upset at someone for a month.

But the more I thought about it, the more remorseful I felt. Maybe…maybe Max had some other purpose to fulfill. Knowing her personality, I know for a fact that not only is she a selfless human being (With the occasion of swearing loudly in public); she's also kind and considerate.

Well…kind is…a rather big word. I'll never forget the time she poured that cheese sauce down Lissa's shirt, nor when she punched Lissa in the face…or all of those moments when she would poke fun at Lissa's muffin top…

Ah. I think I know what was wrong with Max. It was jealousy.

It's funny to say that despite meeting Max as Ari, I understand Max more. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure Max was acting (For the most part) on her twin brother's half, but there are times when her own unique personality really shines through.

Like on my twentieth birthday, she actually went to find my mother, father and younger sister for me, and reconciling with my strained family was a far better present than the Klipsch earphones Angel, Nudge and Ella had pitched in.

Now that I think about it, Max has actually done so, so much for me.

Just then, a creaking noise from the front door had interrupted my train of thought, so I quickly pretended to fall asleep. I'm a terrible actor, but I think I managed to pull this one off well.

A pair of feet started to walk up the stairs, and knocked quietly on Max's bedroom. Recognizing the dress from this afternoon, I realized it was only Max's mother. Why was she here anyway? Didn't Max say she was going to stay at her newly-weds'?

Okay, don't blame me. I'm naturally a curious guy! After a moment of silence, I tossed the blanket onto the ground, started to creep up the stairs, and pressed my ear against the door quietly.

I only heard one sentence from their entire conversation.

"Are you in love with him?"

I didn't even stay behind to listen to Max's answer. I mean, I could've. Wanted to, even, but I didn't dare. Why was I being so afraid, cowering now?

It doesn't make any sense. Feeling defeated, I only huddled into my blanket and, after a few adjustments of my pillow, started to yawn and fall asleep soundly.

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

Okay, I know I often say that I get tongue-tied, but this is one of those actual moments when my mouth has turned so dry to the point I can't even speak. All I could do was make a strange gagging noise…like that girl from The Grudge.

Mom only smiled sadly at me. "It's alright, Max. You don't have to tell me now. In fact…" She stood up, stretching her arms. "You don't need to tell me anything anymore. Just do whatever makes you happy."

"Are you leaving now?" OH, so NOW I can talk. Thanks a lot, you…you…worthless piece of…tongue.

"I'm just going to pack some of my toiletries into a bag, and then I'll be off to Florida in about five hours." Before retreating, Mom gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. "Don't stay up too late, okay?"

I nodded, giving her a quick one-armed hug. "Thanks Mom."

Mom gave off a laugh. "Why do you need to thank me? I didn't do anything."

I shrugged, but now that she mentions it, she's right. Why did I say thank-you? Out of politeness? Gosh, I'm stupid…

"No reason. Good night, Mom." I said, flipping off the switch on my bedside lamp.

"Good night, honey."

As I curled up into a ball on my side deep in the blanket, I couldn't help but ponder the last question Mom had asked me. Did I actually love Fang? Let's look at this logically (Although logic isn't my forte).

It's obvious that I care about him…er…

He's the only reason behind my surprising acts of jealousy back in Los Angeles…um…

…Yeah, I'm going to sleep.

* * *

The next morning when I woke up, it was still dark. I peered out the window with squinted eyes. Was it overcast (Again)? Or…

Oh, great. I looked at the luminous digits on my electronic clock. It read five twenty in the morning. No wonder it was still dark!

Wait a second, wait a second – what did my airplane ticket say? Quickly, I tossed the blanket away from my body and examined the departure time that was printed neatly on the paper.

"SIX THIRTY?" I bellowed, sinking onto the bed weakly. That meant I only had one hour to prepare myself (Not that I had to, really, but…you get what I mean!)

I hurried downstairs, wondering whether Fang was still asleep. I examined him intently, watching the moonlight from the window illuminate the sharp cheekbones on his face. Using my finger, I started to outline his face, gliding across his nose and to his very, very kissable –

_No bad thoughts, Maximum Ride, no bad thoughts!_

I quickly jerked my finger back, hesitating on the idea whether I should wake him up now or let him sleep for a couple more minutes.

Peh – as if several more minutes of sleep could do him more benefit to his naturally attractive face.

"Fang, wake up," I said urgently, prodding his cheek gently.

Fang's dark eyes started to flutter open tiredly. "What's up?"

"When are you flying back to Los Angeles?" I asked.

He propped himself up onto his elbow, glancing at me tiredly. "My flight's at six thirty. What time is it now?"

"Six thirty? You dolt, its five thirty right now! We've only got one hour until our flight!" I cried hastily, wasting no time to wrench the blanket from him and stuff it back into the closet.

Come on – we've got an hour. You don't expect me to actually fold it neatly and put it back in the original spot, right?

I didn't think so.

* * *

Believe it or not, we did manage to pack up our belongings and chug down a small breakfast consisting of a chocolate granola bar and milk straight from the carton within half an hour, leaving us with the remaining half hour to get to the airport and check-in.

I, clad in my trademark sweatpants, sweater, scarf and toque, clambered into the requested taxi clumsily after Fang, who was dressed in a similar outfit.

"We're off to the airport, and step on it!" I ordered frantically. Fang peered at me anxiously.

"You're sweating, and its ten degrees outside." He commented, reaching into the depth of his pocket to pull out a single-ply tissue.

"Aren't you thoughtful?" I mused under my breath sarcastically, leaning against the window frame to take a quick nap before our frantic dash into the airport began.

* * *

The blonde reporter was not a happy camper. For one, she had literally camped out all night in the park across the street from the two-storey house, and with only a slim-fitting t-shirt to protect her from the cold; needless to say she was freezing seven hours later.

She sincerely hoped that camping out in the freezing weather was going to be worth it. Then again, she thought to herself while glimpsing through the candid shots taken back at Hotel Sofitel, this was Fang Robertson, one of the most beloved idols to walk America in the twenty-first century.

It was going to be worth it in the end, even with her eventual flu.

Finally, the front door slammed shut, indicating that the two people (Dressed rather casually and looking unkempt) were beginning to leave for their next destination. The reporter started to snap photographs, taking note of the messy bedhead from the masked female.

She raised a suspicious eyebrow, but it lowered quickly. She'll leave the naughty imagination to her readers.

The taxi's engine started to rumble thunderously, and in a matter of moments, it had sped off into the distance. She didn't bother to get any more photographs, however.

There was enough information to give her a raise, a promotion and prescribed antibiotics for her cough.

First things first, it's time to add more details to her explosive article that would be published in just a few hours, and (Of course) spread across the Internet like wildfire.

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

"Listen, kid, and listen good," I snarled viciously, glaring at the toddler who was staring at me with her bewildered eyes. "If you continue to kick my chair again, you will pay. I will literally throw you out the window."

God, I hated standard class flights.

And of course, she (With her innocent pigtails and all that cutesy stuff) started to wail terribly. The mother eyed me angrily. "How dare you say that to my daughter!"

I only shrugged. "She started it. Not my fault your daughter has ADHD."

The stewardess (With her forced smile) poked my shoulder lightly. "Sweetheart, do you think you could keep the volume down? Somebody just complained."

"Who?"

"Me." And hence, all signs of false friendliness were wiped away in a flash. "Now zip it before I come over there to make you shut up." She warned. I only snorted. There was no way I was going to let somebody like HER push me around. I mean, how old am I? Six? I don't take orders from adults, especially strange adults.

"Well, maybe I don't want to shut up. Give me a better seat than this, and then maybe I'll keep quiet for most of the duration." I said, smiling triumphantly at her.

"…You are a very evil young lady."

"So I've been told."

In only a few seconds, she raised her fingers and snapped at me for my attention. "We've got an extra seat in the first class department, but I'm making sure I don't hear a peep from you, otherwise, it's back to the basic seats."

I nodded quickly. Man, I just loved blackmailing adults. It's so fun – you ought to give it a try someday.

Fang, in matching attire, barely looked up from his magazine when I plopped down onto the seat next to him. So much leg room – I think I can actually die and proceed straight on to Heaven. "Intimidation? Threats?"

I smiled cheekily, although it was quickly replaced with a yawn. "You know it."

"You're tired, aren't you?" Fang commented. Wow, he is SO observant.

"Obviously. Otherwise, I wouldn't have yawned," I snapped, feeling myself starting to slide in my very comfortable leather seat.

"I'll be the gentleman for one day. Here," He said. Setting his magazine on his lap, he used his other arm to pat his shoulder. "Take a nap."

And of course, with sleep overpowering me like a very intense drug, I willingly complied.

I'll say one thing: His shoulder is no pillow (Due to the lack of fat on his bones), but…

It put me into a restless sleep. Much more restless than the one I had back in Washington last night. Or previous nights, for that matter.

I swear I had a smile on my face for the rest of the flight (Even though I had blacked out completely).

* * *

When we landed, however, it was a completely different story.

Thank God we had an early flight, because there weren't that many people at the airport when we landed. I mean, of course, there were people, but those were still too exhausted to even give the two ninjas (Us truly) a second glance.

"Dad!" I called, waving energetically. When he turned to greet us, however, his face was pale and gaunt. Simply put, he looked like a ghost.

I felt my blood run ice cold immediately. "Dad, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

"We can't talk here," He mumbled, grasping our bags with ease. "Put that away. We need to get out of here, and fast."

"What's wrong?" I asked again, with more urgency. Worry started to fill my heart as I watched my usually calm and collected Dad glance around the vacant airport before us suspiciously, as if he were trying to find something out of the ordinary.

Fang only squeezed my arm comfortingly. "Let's just get out of here first. He's too agitated to explain right now."

I only nodded, speechless. Hopefully, everything was okay. Hopefully.

Obviously, they weren't. Of course they weren't. How could things be okay when your originally cool-minded father started to honk the horn at every single person that overtook us?

When we got back to the villa, the driveway was flooded with paparazzi with their clicking cameras, hoping to catch snapshots of Fang and me, but mostly Fang, since 'Ari' was of no use to them.

"What's with all the cameras?" I asked curiously. Dad started to honk at the driveway furiously, opening the window a smidge.

"GET OUT OF THE WAY BEFORE I RUN ALL OF YOU DOWN. I AM WILLING TO DO IT. YOU KNOW I AM." He yelled heatedly. It was then when I could hear what the ruckus was about.

"Ari! Do you have any comments on Fang's new girlfriend?"

_HOLD UP._

I jerked my head to the question, sending the reporter a questioning gaze. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"So you don't know anything about his beau? His new one in Washington? Oh, and if you don't mind me asking…" I rolled my eyes.

_Dude, I've got no choice but to answer them, even if it's against my will. _"Where did you go off to?"

"I was…in New York, attending a workshop made specifically for lead singers. And if you don't mind ME asking, what on EARTH are you talking about! Fang has a new girlfriend?"

Realization hit me in the face just like that. Why didn't I see it before? Oh, my God, oh, my God…this is just as bad as when Fang witnessed my naked self.

I mentally face-palmed myself, shaking my head in disappointment at the same time. "Oh, God, no, no, you can't be serious."

"So, you've seen this girl!"

"No, I haven't! I mean, I didn't! Ugh!" I only glanced at Dad through the rear-view mirror.

"You know what, you two kids get upstairs first. I'll handle it." Fang and I locked gazes, and then nodded. Quickly, we scrambled out of the mini-van, pushing ourselves past the paparazzi and into the house before the storming herd of flashing photographers could stampede into the villa.

Gazzy and Iggy ran into the parlour to greet us, although for some strange reason, Gazzy only eyed me with a questioning gaze.

"What's up? Do I have something on my face?" I asked teasingly, pushing him gently. "Or are you going to ask me about what lotion I use for my skin again?"

"Er…" Iggy and Gazzy exchanged 'the look'. Uh oh, when they use 'the look', it usually means something bad. I mean, there just isn't possibly any way for the situation to get any worse…right?

Wrong.

"I'm out of toothpaste. Do you guys have any – "

And here I am, watching my twin brother make a dynamic entry, face full of shaving cream whilst carrying my electric toothbrush in his hand.

Oh, God, today just isn't my day. Firstly, my twin comes back from his little baby-making fest in Paris; second, he uses my electric toothbrush that Dad had personally bought for me.

What's next?

"Oh, honey! Did you forget the toothpaste that we took from the hotel?"

…Apparently, Ari and his pregnant girlfriend made up, and he brought her HERE to LIVE. Wow, I am at a loss for words…other than one:

**_Fuck._**

* * *

"Why the hell are you back? And why the hell is FRANCESCA back! Dude, she dumped you for her lame-ass ex-boyfriend who owned a Porsche!" I exclaimed for the umpteenth time, slamming my fists against the dining table painfully.

Nobody wanted to speak.

"Can somebody PLEASE tell me what the hell is going on? Why are there reporters down in the driveway, keeping Dad from putting the gear shift into Park?" I asked, gesturing towards the lovely scenery below us.

"Why is Gazzy flinching every time I touch him?" I asked, proving my point by giving him a gentle prod on the cheek, resulting in a high-pitched squeal that resembled a baby pigs'.

"And, for the ten thousandth time in a row, why in fuck's sake are you back!" Ari only placed his hands on my shoulder, squeezing them comfortingly. Pft, like that's going to do anything right now…

"Max, calm down, calm down! I refuse to let your future niece or nephew be polluted with vulgarities."

"Oh, wow," I mumbled sarcastically. "So now you're going all fatherly on me? Listen, man, explain yourself! Why did you come back?"

"Ah, perhaps I can answer that," Iggy joined in after five restless minutes of clinging his spoon against his coffee mug. "Your brother actually came back yesterday, along with his girlfriend. She actually convinced him…to…"

"To come back and fulfill his role as lead singer for One Winged Angel!" Francesca finished brilliantly, clasping her hands together and giving Ari a gentle kiss on the cheek. I'll say one thing about her though: Ari certainly knows how to pick his women.

Urgh, all of this lovey-dovey mess is tampering with my brain. I can't even think straight anymore.

"Okay, okay, I got it, there's no need to put on a make out session for us. There's just too much lust in the air we can take until we have the need to barf." I commented, wrinkling my nose in disgust as Ari started to dart his tongue into Francesca's mouth.

"No more tonsil hockey!" I shouted, chucking a nearby metal spoon at Ari's head when he clearly didn't get my point.

"Ow!" Ari yelped. "Watch it, idiot!" I only smirked. That's what he gets when he loves waltzing with his tongue.

"You know, you should really stop being such a bitch to your brother. He can only love me too much." Francesca replied in her rather snobby voice.

Okay, THAT'S it. I've had a rough start to a seemingly terrible day, and I'm not going to stand for my brother's pregnant girlfriends' attitude, no matter how gorgeous she is.

"Well, Francesca," I said, her name dripping in sarcasm. She looked up at me with a petrifying gaze. Ooh, I'm so scared of a big, green basilisk like her.

Mind you, she was wearing a forest-green jumpsuit. Technically, her pixie-like features (Along with her matching pixie cut) would make her look like Tinkerbell from Peter Pan, but uh…not so innocent anymore.

"May I remind you that there is just so much PDA we can take? You two should seriously get a room or better yet, maybe an apartment of your own so you could fuck the daylights out of each other." I finished triumphantly, clapping my hands together.

Ari, however, only grinned at me like a stupid idiot. Typical – he thinks I'm joking around. See, the sad thing about him is that he can never tell the difference between 'I'm serious' and 'I'm so serious it's not even funny'.

"Okay, so that's been explained and settled…" I glanced at Gazzy, who was still looking pretty petrified. "You did explain to him that I'm not a doppelganger, right? And we're twins?"

Ari nodded sadly. "I tried…that little one just doesn't like to listen."

"Gazzy," I began slowly, squeezing his shoulder. I sound like I'm coaxing my own child into drinking cough syrup or something. "I am a girl. That guy over there? Yeah, the weirdo that likes to play tonsil hockey? Yeah, that's my brother. We're TWINS. We're NOT doppelgangers."

Gazzy only gulped. I sighed half-heartedly, placing my hands in my hips. "I guess you're just going to need time to adjust then."

"N-no, it's not that. It's just that…" Gazzy's voice started to tremble. Oh, God, I sincerely hope the poor kid's not going to start releasing waterworks everywhere. "I found this box yesterday…please explain to me why your radioactive material is replaced with bloody tissues."

Oh, God. So THAT was the reason behind his strangeness. "Gazzy!" I snapped, all signs of gentleness gone. "How many times have I told you not to touch my stuff?"

"I was just trying to protect your room from HIM!" Gazzy defended, pointing a guilty finger at Ari. "I mean, how could I watch him tear up your room like that? It's just…WRONG!"

Aw. Gazzy…I seriously don't know what to say, but I can positively say that I'm touched.

"Gazzy," I murmured, pressing a hand against his hair. "You are too cute for words to be described, but please understand that I am a GIRL. Therefore, I…um…yeah…I need to…bleed every month because of puberty." Leaning down, I gave the confused Gazzy a quick one-armed hug.

Yeah, he still didn't get it.

Suddenly, the front door burst open, slammed shut once again, and I watched intently as Dad stormed into the room, completely red in the face.

"Dad!" I greeted, relief rushing through me to see that my father made it back inside the house in one piece. "How's the war zone down there?"

"Terrible. They continued to badger me with questions about Fang's new girlfriend that he 'apparently' became acquainted with on his trip to Washington!" Dad exclaimed, throwing a flashy tabloid magazine on the table. "Read this and weep."

"**BREAKING NEWS – Fang's New Girlfriend? Featured: Heated arguments at Hotel Sofitel, exclusive interviews with the employees and…an overnight stay? Just WHO in the world is this mysterious female?**

**Exclusive! What did Justin Bieber say?"**

Holy. Shit. Times two (And I'm not fussing over what Justin Bieber would've said about the 'mysterious relationship' of Fang's).

"What's THIS?" I screeched, examining the secretly photographed shots of Fang and me, squabbling about his card key. "This is so not true! I mean…what the hell! This is a dirty, rotten lie!"

"A lie or not, it's been photographed, it's spreading across the Internet, discussed about on celebrity news channels and needless to say, everybody is furious." Dad said darkly.

"I wonder who that girl is? She sure has a small head," Gazzy commented, examining the photograph carefully. I only rolled my eyes. Why bother trying to explain it to him when he's clearly not going to understand any single word I was going to say?

Fang, however, only looked thoughtful. For the first time in my life, I have never seen him angry/irritated/furious (Any synonym of the above would do). Well, there have been other times, but his cool side only came out after a few moments of furious banter.

I glanced at him, wondering what could be going through his head at that moment. "Fang? What's up? You're awfully quiet…"

Wow, get this. Fang actually smiled! It's not his trademark 'I'm top dog and I'm way better than you' kind of grin, but a full-fledged, 'I'm actually happy for the first few times in my life' kind of smile…quite similar to the one he wore when he reunited with his estranged family.

"It's nothing." Nothing. He said 'nothing'. Of course there has to be something! Otherwise…otherwise…meh, you get my point.

"By the way," Ari began, drawling out his words, interrupting my train of thought. "What WERE you doing with Fang at the hotel anyway?"

"Nothing dirty, you sick-minded pervert," I spat. "It's…a long story that I'm not really willing to talk about right now."

"It's even worse now," Dad continued on. "Because they also snapped photographs of you and Fang, exiting from your mother's house. Your mother forgot her passport at home before going on her honeymoon, but when she got there, she was immediately bombarded with questions."

"Is Mom okay?" I asked wearily. I would never be able to live it down if I see my mother get hurt.

"She's fine, just a little traumatized."

"Ugh," I groaned, placing my hand against my ear. This was great. Just great. "What do we do now? I mean, I can't go home! I'm literally CONFINED here!"

"Well, honey, the only thing you CAN do is lay low," Dad said. "Because of so much negative publicity for One Winged Angel and it mainly revolves around you…"

"You mean, Max is the main source of the problems?" Iggy asked, his eyes glinting brightly. I eyed him viciously, knowing what he was up to. So the guy still hasn't gotten over it…geesh…I went on to shush him with a finger anyway.

"Keep quiet, or else."

Dad only ignored him. Thank the Lord for a man like Jeb Ride to be my father. "Max, you're probably too distressed right now. I suggest that you take a break from impersonating as Ari, and have Ari…well…debut officially."

"So you mean…I get to play my air guitar? Suh-_**weet**_!" Ari exclaimed energetically. Ugh, one of the things that I don't miss about my twin: His immaturity.

"Uh, not sweet," I said curtly, brushing a piece of hair out of my eyes. "You don't understand the first thing about becoming an idol singer. There's more to it than just going to conventions, waving politely and pretending that you're cool."

And clearly, he never heard me because all Ari continued to do was strum his fingers intensely against his air guitar, making strange squealing noises while doing so.

"That's it! I've had it! He's not going to listen, so I'm not going to even bother anymore." I fumed, getting ready to stomp up the stairs with my head full of smoke. Dad only shot me a sympathetic gaze, patting my hand comfortingly.

"That's just the way your brother behaves, Max, don't get too upset." Dad consoled. I only sighed indifferently.

"Well, I agree with your plan. I just hope…" I glanced back at Ari, who was butterfly kissing Francesca with his eyelashes, who (In response) was giggling uncontrollably.

Ladies and gentleman, excuse me for a moment for my Puke-O-Meter has just exploded, and I am ready to vomit.

"He needs help," I muttered under my breath, scoffing while doing so.

"Well, Ari was never known for being normal, you know that," Dad replied, chuckling slightly. As strange as Ari's sudden appearance might be, the thing that really bugged me was how Ari's girlfriend had come back into his life just like that.

…And call me paranoid, but Francesca (With her honey-streaked hair and mesmerizing pretty turquoise eyes) just gives off…the evil aura. As in the 'I may look pretty, but I'm only pretty to look at! In fact, I pack quite a punch!' type of evil.

"Do you even trust that girl?" I mouthed curiously to the unsuspecting group of young men before us, bawling for food. Dad only shrugged, giving off the relaxed vibe that he didn't really care, but something in his eyes made me second guess myself.

Or maybe I'm still woozy from my early flight. Time to take a nap.

* * *

The next day, I found myself, sitting completely alone at the breakfast table with a small sticky note left on the refrigerator, written in Fang's extremely neat cursive writing:

_We decided to let you sleep in, and took the real Ari with us to the press conference regarding our concert. Don't worry too much. Gazzy set up a few too many mouse traps around the yard (And in random places outside the villa), so you'll be fine._

_P.S. Everything will turn out alright in the end. _

I couldn't help but trust Fang. I mean, even though we have been through a lot together and there have been those little moments where we stood on opposite ends about our views, but all in all…I have to admit that he's a pretty fantastic guy.

As I got out the box of Lucky Charms from the pantry, however, a rather terrifying thought started to creep into my head: What was going to happen between Fang and me? I mean, even though I may be a complete failure at love (Note my strained 'friendship' with Iggy right now), I can ninety-nine point nine percent confirm that Fang does have requited feelings for me…

Right? Right?

For the moment, all I wanted to do was concentrate on my breakfast, but somehow, I didn't even feel like chewing my mush of chocolate milk and artificial marshmallows…gosh, just thinking of Fang just seems to have the weirdest effects on me.

Suddenly, my cellphone started to ring. Reaching into my sweatshirt pocket, I picked it up quickly. "Hey Dad, what's up?" On Dad's side, I could clearly hear the cat-calls of hundreds of fan girls, screaming for Fang's name. Or did I mistake those cat-calls for crying?

Anyways…

"Oh, you're awake?" Dad responded in surprise. "I actually expected you to sleep in for a couple more hours."

"Dad, who do you take me for?" I scoffed, taking the empty bowl back to the sink. I'll wash it later – no big deal. I'm not living under Mom's roof anymore. "Mom or something? Anyway, how's Ari doing over at the press conference? He's not pulling anything funny or…out of the ordinary, right?"

"Knowing your brother, he's bound to do something stupid, but I did have a small chat with him yesterday." Dad's voice deepened slightly. "You really ought to talk to him about your complaints, Max. I'm not your owl."

"I know, I know," I sighed. "But for the moment, I can't really do anything. I mean, everything I say goes in his ear and out the other, and it's all because of that stupid – "

In a matter of moments, my cellular phone was knocked out of my grasp, and was flung ten feet away, hitting the television with a sickening crack. Oh, dear, Dad wasn't going to be too happy with me.

But that wasn't even the worst part. I stared in horror at Miss Tinkerbell-Turned-Basilisk, equipped with a rather sharp and pointy kitchen knife, grinning viciously at me.

Something tells me that either Francesca is on drugs, she had too much to drink last night or she's about to stab me with that oh-so-pointy knife.

"Holy crap. Fran, are you on crack?" I shouldn't even pay attention to her anyway…but…

"Do you think this knife can pierce through flesh easily? I think I'd like to give it a quick…test…" Francesca finished, eyeing me. Gripping the knife tightly, she lunged forward, ready to stab and jab – Lovely rhyme, eh?

There was no way in hell that I was going to let myself be part of her psychotic 'experiment'. Sorry Ari, but balancing between my life and your embryo?

I'm going to have to save my own first.

* * *

**Long chapter, huh? :D Nonetheless, I hoped you enjoyed it! I'm sure most of you are probably wondering things like "WTF IS GOING ON HERE?" I know! So much drama, so much action! XDD **

**I will be on vacation for a couple days, but don't worry, I'm going to get a head start on Chapter 19 tonight (The finale where...ALL WILL BE REVEALED!) Well, nothing will be revealed...maybe...hopefully...-smirks-**

**Anywhooo, thank-you once again for all the hits/visitors/favorites/alerts/reviews guys! I really, really appreciate it. C: Want to give me a nice Grad present? Pop me a review and tell me what you think! C: See you guys real soon! I promise this time!**

**Luff,**

**Sam C:**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello my dears! It's Sam C: here, and I'm going to start off with a HUUUGE apology for delaying Chapter 19! I know it's summertime, and seriously, I should've uploaded this Chapter earlier, but I was faced with a minor case of writer's block, but thank goodness, my creative juices are flowing once more annnd I'm ready to deliver the next chapter! C: Again, I'd like to give a big, BIG thank you to all of you lovely reviewers/favoriters/alerters/readers! I couldn't have made it this far without you. Just one more chapter and then the epilogue left! C: I hope you'll all look forward to it! **

**Max - GOD. YOU'RE SO SLOW.  
Nudge - As, like, as slow as a turtle!  
Sam C: - So what you're saying is...I'm cute and slow? Turtles are very cute...  
****Iggy - Turtles are VICIOUS ANIMALS! They bite!  
Sam C: - Did they bite you?  
Fang - Obviously not. He refuses to come in contact with that reptile when they're found within a ten mile radius.  
Sam C: - Fang knows MATH?  
Fang - Shut up.  
Gazzy - ON WITH THE STORY!**

* * *

_**Meanwhile…**_

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

"Fang, take this!" The teddy bear with my name stitched across the chest was practically shoved into my chest, resulting in the bouquet of daisies toppling onto the ground (And accidentally stepped on).

"Fang, please take this as a souvenir of my love for you!" A hand-crafted twenty-inch plush toy of me was now squashed onto the teddy bear's face. I only sighed, trying hard to keep my forced smile in place.

Jeb placed a hand on my shoulder, smiling brightly. "Do you need some help?"

"Of course," I replied wearily, handing him all of my new gifts. I definitely needed more room back at the villa…

Back when I had just debuted, I would look at these gifts as treasures. I mean, who wouldn't be glad to receive a drawn sketch of yourself?

But right now, they didn't bring me the satisfaction it once did. Okay, I'm lying – it's still a fantastic ego boost, but compared to spending time with Max, I'd take that over that poor, poor squashed bear any day.

The Prez signalled for us to get ourselves settled behind the long white table, and I (Unfortunately) had the pleasure of sitting beside the eccentric Ari, who was waving boisterously to his crowd of fans, wearing t-shirts emblazoned with his name on them.

"Sit. Down." I ordered through gritted teeth, pulling his dress shirt down to keep him from climbing across the table. Seriously, I'm questioning how Max was able to deal with him and his weirdness since birth.

Once the crowd had died down, the Prez started off with her introductions. "Welcome, everyone, to the One Winged Angel press conference! I'm pleased that so many of you have decided to attend today, for we have several…ah…"

She gave me a quick glance, and I tilted my head to the side, giving her a small wave. "…We have several announcements to address today…"

"Will these involve Fang and his girlfriend from Washington!" A pimply sixteen-year-old from the crowd shouted curiously.

"That will come later!" The Prez promised, grinning at the crowd of intense clicks of snapping cameras before us. "But as of now…that is second, compared to the importance of our first announcement. Iggy?"

Iggy reached for the microphone ("Iggy, we love you!") and gave the crowd a tiny wave. "Hello, everyone! So, it has been about…let's see…"

I started to rest my chin atop of my clenched fist, nodding approvingly at how swift and well Iggy had delivered the news about our first official concert (Resulting in an ear-piercing explosion of shrieks from the crowd below)…

"You can see the reason why Iggy's voted as 'Most Charismatic' in Seventeen magazine, right?" Manager Jeb whispered under his breath behind me, taking note of my every move.

I nodded solemnly, but at the same time, I also started to feel like a total dick. I really needed a reality check – and as much as I hated to admit it, Max was…right.

It's time to shower some more affection for my second family.

Iggy concluded his message and stood up, bowing to acknowledge our most cherished fans. When our eyes had met, I shot him a small smile and a thumbs-up. _Great job, man. You've got to teach me how you brainwash your fans with your dazzling smirks these days._

He only smirked back at me before waving to one of his fans that was hollering his name. Hey, you've got to start somewhere – and I think this is an excellent approach.

"Thank-you, Iggy!" The Prez said as cheerfully as she could. "Fans, be sure your Internet is working properly, because starting tomorrow at midnight, you will be able to purchase your tickets on Ticket Master." Finally, her warm tones of emerald green turned towards me, and I started to shiver slightly from the intense glare.

That lovely shade of emerald? Yeah, it definitely wasn't there. Instead, I was left facing the darkest forest imaginable (Probably even nastier than the Forbidden Forest in Harry Potter).

…Did I kill her mother or something?

Hell, I don't think so.

Just before the Prez could pass the microphone back to me so I could start my rather…extensive explanation about my secret beau back in Washington (Believe it or not, she actually hand-wrote my whole speech on a single napkin), the glass doors swung open, bringing in a chilly breeze from late Autumn.

I furrowed my brow suspiciously. "That's odd," I remarked quietly. "Are we missing a few tabloids? They should've been informed about the press conference a couple of days ago…"

I watched as poor, poor Gazzy, seated on my right, started to tremble. In fear. This could only mean one thing…although…

"I smell…" Gazzy inhaled deeply, and then started to cough uncontrollably. He managed to choke out a few words before colliding head first into the large billboard of One Winged Angel behind us. "S-s-skunk!"

…Gazzy certainly has a powerful nose – almost as strong as a dog's. I'd trust his sense of smell over a poodle's any day.

"Are you incinerating that I should live in the forest, wearing black and white clothes for the rest of my life?" A voice boomed angrily. From my plugged nose, I glanced up, rolling my eyes at our surprising visitors.

"I believe the correct verb is insinuating," The Prez mumbled under her breath, shaking her head of coppery red hair (If I may add – it has finally washed out to a more normal shade) disappointedly. "She has to brush up on her vocabulary."

_FYI, it's not just the vocabulary. It's her atrocious writing as well._

I didn't even have to hear '**IT'S THE CRAZED BITCH!**' from Iggy to find out who it was. I could recognize her dry locks of putrid red any day.

"Lissa, how nice of you to join us," I greeted icily, my voice slightly muffled. "Please, feel free to abandon the city life and venture into the wilderness. I think the main course tonight is insects with a side order of salamander. Now…" I gestured toward the door. "If you please, get out."

Oh, great – I had dodged that scuffed tennis shoe just in time. So now my 'loyal' fangs are protesting against me, shouting rude vulgarities at how I'm not being a gentleman to my fair maiden. _Fair maiden? _I scoffed while eyeing my raging crowd. _You have got to find a better optometrist._

"Actually, I never intended to be here in the first place." Lissa spat bitterly while walking towards the security-enforced table.

"Then go. You're stinking up the place with your ballistic sweat glands! Good grief, take a shower once in a while, will you?" Iggy complained, fanning the fumes intensely from his delicate nostrils.

"It's called…Justin Bieber's test perfume number two," Lissa explained coldly, reaching into her purse and grabbing out a small bottle printed in elegant cursive (But purple) writing. I snorted. Typical. Ever since being acquainted with him, he has always been quite attached to that colour. "Anyway, I'm just here to make an announcement."

My blood started to run slightly colder, and I swear I could feel my face turn paler than necessary. "What do you want?" I growled, cracking my knuckle menacingly. "CME is not a place for you blundering, babbling, bumbling bee to the otch to cause trouble."

I wasn't even going to try to be nice anymore. Hell, Lissa _**NEVER**_ deserved respect in the first place. Why was I idiotic enough to put my best foot forward during those dreadful three weeks of practicing her auto-tuned Black and White?

Oh, right. Because I thought I was still infatuated with a male.

Lissa's face didn't even contain a hint of esteem that she would usually have for me. Then again, I could care less. If it were Max, however, that would be an entirely different story…

Not that we're discussing this matter right now…

"You're quite the charmer, Fang," Lissa said viciously, stomping up the small flight of stairs up onto our white platform, leaving a large trail of mud behind her.

Ugh – it looks like we need to get out the huge mop again. With a bucketful of soap to get the stain out.

Without any warning, Lissa whipped the microphone from my hands, and gave me a rather triumphant smile. "You'll be in for quite a surprise later, Fang. I hope you have a good seat for the show."

"I would…" I began slowly. "But uh…" I gestured towards my occupied seat that she had unmistakably took to squash her humongous butt in. Okay, I'm sorry to embellish my observations a little too graphically, but she brought it upon herself.

For her information, black seriously isn't her colour – and nor is wearing skin-tight floral printed mini dresses. But obviously, she didn't need to hear this from me.

"Attention everyone! I have an important announcement to make!" Lissa's voice boomed over the microphone loudly, sending a sudden rush of goose bumps all over my arm.

Uh oh. That wicked smile set on her face that is currently directed at Ari suggests that this isn't going to be a positive message.

What in the world was going on her mind?

Lissa's fingers clamped onto Ari's muscular shoulder tightly, who jumped at her sudden touch. I had to stifle a snigger. For a split second, it looked like he was being electrocuted – minus electricity and black smoke. "Lady, would you please?" He complained, slapping her fingers repeatedly. "Back off the skunk."

"I will NOT be talked to that way!" Lissa screeched, setting the microphone down onto the table with a loud bang that echoed throughout the whole lobby. "In fact..."

**BANG! **

All of a sudden, a loud bang extremely similar to a gun-shot had occurred (I swear I saw Lissa's personal masked bodyguard set off some strange gizmo behind his back), causing white fog to travel rapidly throughout the main entrance of CME.

Although my vision was completely impaired, my hearing obviously wasn't. Throughout all of the yelping, the screaming, Gazzy's wailing for his missing iPod Touch and Iggy's spluttering coughs, I managed to eavesdrop in on Lissa and Ari.

"Leave – me – alone!" A loud ripping noise suddenly sounded. I raised a furrowed eyebrow while I tried to wave the smoke away with my hand. "What the fuck do you want, lady?"

"I'm going to show everyone…your true form…ow, don't _**BITE**_ me! Max, you – "

My eyes widened in pure terror as soon as I heard Lissa mutter Max's name. So many questions started to pop up in my brain, but it was clear I wasn't going to get any answers through all this chaos.

"What in fuck's sake did you just call me?" Ari's voice was clearly angry now. No, not even angry – it was furious. "Are you mistaking me for somebody else?"

"How dare you! Let me say one thing: I don't make mistakes. Stop lying to mask who you truly are…in just three seconds, you'll be revealed – "

_Revealed? _I thought curiously to myself as I collided painfully my crotch into my chair, but as of now, the pain wasn't the thing that was on my mind. Well, it was, but one powerful question overtook my brain instead: _What do you mean by 'revealed', Lissa?_

In a matter of moments, the smoke was already subsiding into the open air outside (Props to the Prez with her quick-thinking brain), but as I turned my head to glance at the messy pair before me, I tried my hardest not to snort with laughter.

Lissa's perfectly styled waves were now completely tousled, and the straps of her dress were on the verge of falling off, revealing a Victoria's Secret bra two sizes too large. An evident teeth mark was found on her forearm, with specks of blood starting to gush out.

…I think Ari was thinking of barbequed ribs when he gave Lissa a large chomp.

But the worst definitely came last. Just about half an hour ago, Ari was practically gleaming with pride as he strode into the parlour with confidence.

And now? He resembled a completely dishevelled and half-naked duck.

I'm not even kidding.

The neat bristles of his bleached blonde hair was now spiking out in all sorts of directions, his face was slightly red with fury from his small brawl with the panting squid who refused to let go of his hands and as for his attire?

I'm not even going to mention the ripped (Or possibly) clawed expensive glimmering white tuxedo that Max had worn for her first appearance as Ari, with the remaining fabric hanging loosely from his body. What a battle this suit has gone through.

…Actually, forget what I said. Ari wasn't the worst. It was Lissa's next shriek of pure terror that definitely took the cake.

"W-where did your chest go?"

Ah, the life of an idol singer – always a nice pair of shoes to fulfill your responsibilities and duties in.

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

You know you're going to have an excellent day when your future sister-in-law-disguised-as-a-psychotic-basilisk is about to murder you with your father's best kitchen utensil.

Before Francesca could plunge the knife into me, I quickly dodged, jumping to the side to avoid the sudden attack. Her knife became lodged in the random (Yet life-saving) watermelon that was lying on the counter. "You're not going to get away!" Francesca sang shrilly, yanking on the handle.

This gave me enough time to escape, but Francesca shocked me with her apparent athletic ability that she managed to mask from Ari for far too long. Then again…they only dated for a month…and for most of that duration, they only engaged in something known as intercourse.

Obviously, no conversation (Other than the constant moans and groans) would have occurred. And really, with Ari's personality, he only bases his partners on looks. He's a superficial jerk – truth be told, I have no idea why I'm related to him in the first place.

Even though I absolutely detest my twin for getting himself caught up in this tangled web of messy romance with this crack addict, a very, very small portion of my heart did lurch slightly when Miss Basilisk there banged her slender and tanned arm against one of the dining chairs.

I mean, she was pregnant, after all, and for the most part, I need to be a responsible aunt. Besides, Ari's going to wring off my head if he finds out I was at fault for destroying his embryo.

And that, my friends, is something I don't want to be accountable for.

"Seriously, back off the pot. I'm not freaking pregnant, and I already know it's not good for you, or your baby!" I exclaimed, picking up a nearby object (A nice, ripe apple that I feel guilty for wasting) as an item of defense when the time came.

Francesca gave off a hollow laugh. Geez, now I truly understand the saying 'The prettiest rose will always have the most thorns'. And boy, oh, boy, Francesca isn't just a rose covered in thorns; she's poison ivy straight from the plant itself.

Watching Francesca walk towards me, leering at me like a raging maniac, I hurled the apple with all my might, aiming to knock the knife out of her grip.

…And this just proves that when I'm under extreme pressure, my athletic ability just disappears, and my usually accurate throws become useless.

"Nice try," Francesca said, scoffing at my feeble attempt. "But once you're under my radar, you're not getting out that easily with just an apple."

If I can't fight strength with strength, I'm just going to have to outsmart Francesca myself…hopefully. Well, I am SORRY, but unlike that super genius from Naruto with an Intelligence Quotient of over two hundred, I can't make up battle tactics in the time span of several seconds.

With all the strength I could gather in my legs, I kicked over the coffee table, which started to shatter with a sickening crash. Ugh, Dad's going to have a fit when he realizes what has happened to the nice furniture.

Don't worry, Dad – I'm going to go back to IKEA to buy the exact same one.

Francesca jumped back a few steps, and I began to eye her with a questioning gaze. How in the world can a two-month pregnant woman be so athletically-inclined, with such fast reflexes to go along with?

I mean, sure, to Francesca's air-headed girlfriend, it might just be two months, but I've been in school, and I have never fallen asleep in a single Sexual Health class. It's crucial that Francesca doesn't do anything too strenuous (Example: Jump rope, stab me in the stomach, run at seven miles per hour, jab me in the heart, do intense aerobics, murder me…I think I made my point), and stay lax.

Yeah, uh, according to my common sense and knowledge, murdering me is definitely not something she should be doing right now.

Whipping her dark-brown ponytail lightly, Francesca smirked gleefully at me, noting that I was taking care not to injure her – or her child. "You're very careful, aren't you?"

What the fuck! She just _**SLAPPED**_ her own belly! "Don't do that!" I cried. God, why do I even try? Maybe it's because I just love my twin too, too much. So much to the point I feel like I'm the parent of a very idiotic child (Also known as Ari) and I spoil my kid way too much.

…Okay, I'm never saying that ever again.

In a blur (With everything moving too quickly for my eyes to see clearly), I felt myself crash painfully against the glass door to the practice room. The doorframe itself had collapsed onto the wooden floorboards, and shards of glass started to fall onto the ground, piercing my own skin.

"Ow!" I yelped as bits of glass embedded itself deep into the palms of my hands. Even though I was slightly disoriented and woozy, I started to get to my feet clumsily, but a strange ringing in my ears only made it impossible for me to do so.

Great – so not only will I have to go to the hospital for stitches and an overdose on antiseptic solution, I also need to get my ears checked. My day just can't get any better.

_There's no time to dwell on the negative, Max! Get up and fight before you give yourself into Francesca's crazy experiments!_

Francesca, chuckling evilly, started to get onto her feet, gripping the kitchen knife tighter than ever. And for the first few times in my entire life, I started to feel anxious. Heart pounding fiercely, I only slid across the floor, backing myself up into a rather dusty corner of the room…

Which also turned out to be one of my worst decisions ever made. How dumb I am to force myself into a tiny space, giving me no room to run?

Oh, wait, I know another person who can compare. Can you take a guess at who this attention-hogging, air-guitar obsessed idiot is?

"You've been a very hard experiment to catch, Maximum Ride," Francesca began slowly, drawling out my name with her tongue. "But I'm glad you decided to surrender yourself to me."

"You're an idiotic slut." I stated, struggling to remove small bits of glass from my skin. Yeowch, if I don't die from sudden assassination from a supposedly sane pixie-like-model-turned-basilisk, I have the possibility of going up to Heaven via blood loss. "Are the hormones making you act psychotic?"

Francesca gave off another laugh. Y'know what I just realized? It's the disturbing fact that when she smiles, she is so, so gorgeous. She has the soul of a devil, yet the angelic grin of a goddesses like Aphrodite.

"Whoever said I was pregnant in the first place?" Francesca grinned nastily. I snapped my head up, widening my eyes in shock. Wait, wait a second – what did she mean by that? Was she…what did…

_No._ No wonder she started to slap her overly flat and toned stomach like that! She had aborted her baby.

Oh, God. Ari was just another sucker for Francesca, foolish enough to be tricked by her looks…and stupid enough to take her back!

It wasn't just Ari, however; it was all five of us. Even I, one who is not known for being tricked, ignored her bitchy attitude and comments (That seriously should've been a warning sign that something was wrong in the first place) because we all thought she was 'just a model'.

…Models are so much more complicated than you think. See, THIS is one of the reasons why I refused to let my mother sign my twenty-year-old tomboy cousin up for America's Next Top Model to 'find her inner female and embrace that power'.

"You're sick! You're not only a selfish pig, you're a murderer!" I insulted ragingly, pointing a guilty finger at Francesca. "I can't believe you would…you would abort your own child like this! How could you use my brother like that? You know how much he loves you, and yet, you tricked him into treating you like a princess!"

"Of course I knew about his 'love', how could I not?" She sneered. "Albeit he does treat me with the respect and kindness I deserve, he's as dumb as a piece of log. It's his fault for not being taught that things aren't always what they seem."

"You're despicable, you know that?" I said, almost sadly. I didn't even have enough energy to make myself sound bitter and irate.

"I've been told otherwise." Francesca replied. "You know…I did actually love your brother. For the first half of our relationship but…" She flicked the kitchen knife in her hand with ease. "It fizzled out. He may cherish me to bits, but he's as irresponsible as a ten-year-old."

"Then why did you come back!"

"I've got an important task on my hands, and the main one involves…" Francesca pointed the tip of that very sharp knife in my face dangerously. I bet she'll be a lovely sous chef in the kitchen – note the sarcasm. "_You._"

For a moment there, I just sat there, completely stunned. Thankfully, my tongue wasn't, so I was still able to form a complete sentence. "What did I ever do to you? In fact, I don't think I've met you up until now!"

"I'm not obliged to reply your inquiry. You can interrogate me for the entire afternoon, if you would prefer, but I'd rather not." Dang, Francesca is certainly top-notch on her vocabulary.

And _**excuse me**_? If she thinks I'm going to admit defeat and actually have her slice up my flesh to feed to Insert-Carnivore-Of-Your-Choice-Here, then she's dealing with the wrong person today.

While she was cackling like a maniac (Correction: A maniacal Chihuahua), I took the golden two seconds of free time I had to get to my feet, shove her onto the ground and listen to the wonderful clatter of the knife falling against the wooden floor.

Her face seemed to hold a surprised gaze when I started to beat and slap the crap out of her. For that moment, punching my clenched fist into her dainty purchased conk was so much more interesting right now than reading the university magazines Dad bought me to keep me company.

I didn't even care about the fact that she was Ari's girlfriend, or the fact that she was a girl, for that matter! Girlfriend or not – if she tries to harm any single one of us, she's going to lose her two fucking front teeth. Period.

"You – foul – evil – lying – bitch! Don't – you – dare – try – and – touch – any – of – us – ever – again!" I shouted, enunciating every single word with a punch delivered to random parts of her body. In a matter of moments, her broken nose was dripping in blood and patches of dark purple were forming quickly on her porcelain skin.

Needless to say, she wasn't going to get out of this little scrimmage unscathed.

Francesca, however, surprised me. Just as I was about to deliver one final blow into her jaw, she guarded her face with her arms, and without a single warning at all, Francesca delivered a strike into my cheek.

I felt the metallic-tasting liquid start to form in my mouth, and I sprayed it all across the wooden floor as she got up, striking me quickly and intensely in the stomach. I staggered backwards, tripping on my own two feet and collapsing onto the floorboards once more.

"You should really consider getting a reality check…you're not going to get out of this alive once I have you under my eye," Francesca panted, making a dive for the kitchen knife.

…Maybe she was right…how long has it been, anyway? I glanced at the wall clock quickly. It was only ten fifteen; five minutes into this murder chase. Even though it was only five minutes, it already felt like forever…

And to be blunt, even if I continue to battle for my life, there's no guarantee I can make it out alive, breathing and pumping blood, right?

Besides, I highly doubt that my fellow princes are going to come to my rescue when my danger bell tolls. This isn't a fairy-tale I'm living in – it's Hell, and that's probably my next destination right –

I only closed my eyes wearily. I wasn't the type of person to give up that easily. I mean, if I did, I wouldn't have impersonated for Ari in the first place and survived for such a long time! But right now…it just seems like my energy is being sucked out by a vacuum cleaner and into the pit of no return…and…

_**Maximum Ride, shut your mouth.**_

Huh? Who's talking? I opened one bleary eye and glanced around the room. Besides a shattered doorframe, a panting sweat-drenched model, there was nobody else in the room. I swear, I'm hearing things…

_**Yes, you're hearing things, and this is Maximum Ride talking. The real one. The one that I truly know. The one that never gives up when things got too tough. What the hell is with you right now, loser? You're giving up this fight…but why? Why are you losing faith so easily? Francesca's not pregnant, so just kick her ass to Jupiter and all will be well!**_

_You're one to talk. You know how exhausting it is to – _

_**Those are just fucking excuses. If I were alive, I would so slap you in the face right now. Max, you can't give up! Think of all of those people that care about you – Mom, Dad, Gazzy, Angel, Ari…**_

_May I remind you that Ari's too preoccupied with a sport involving the two tongues to even give me a second glance? _

_**Well, Ari's always been like this! Okay, we won't count him – happy? Let's see, there's Mom, Dad, Gazzy, Angel, Fang…Ella…Fang…**_

_Okay, okay! I get it! What do you want? And what exactly are you implying? You do understand that it's crucial to save my life than to discuss my romantic relationship with Fang at the moment!_

_**How would he react? If he saw you right now, how do you think he would feel? **_

The sudden image of Fang flashed before my brain, and immediately, I raised my head to my hand. I was starting to feel nauseous – oh, God, this isn't good. But as I began to think more, I couldn't help but ask the same question myself.

How _would_ he react if I died? Especially to a (Possible) secret agent-turned-model like Francesca? I mean, we've been through so much together, and…if I just passed away like that, I…

I think the best bet is that he'll be crying. And having the ones I care about cry for me? Nuh-uh. Not this chick right here.

_**Way to go, sweetheart. That's the Max I know.**_

"Surrendering yourself? You seem to know how this game works…if only you didn't meddle in certain affairs, I'm sure we could've been friends," She commented, walking slowly towards me while flipping the kitchen knife in the air expertly.

"Oh, really? Are you sure about that?" I asked, chuckling. I stood up, leering at her. "I hope you know that I don't approve of your Mission: Impossible shit talk. I don't think you understand that unless I drop dead on my feet right now, there's no way the game is going to end." Not today.

With all of my remaining strength, I got to my feet and tackled the wielded Francesca to the ground. Or tried to, anyway. She was much too slippery for me; like that bar of scented soap that always gave me horrible skin allergies in the bathroom.

However, just as I slipped onto the ground (With the tiny pieces of glass pricking gently into my arms – talk about ouch), Francesca's feet backed away from me and she, herself, had tripped over the fallen wooden door.

Dear half-demolished wooden entrance, you have served your purpose well.

The kitchen knife was flung into the air by surprise. How to Be an Assassin Lesson for Dummies Lesson Number 101: Never let a surprise attack from any direction catch you off guard. You're just going to find yourself in deeper trouble.

It clattered against the wooden floor, and started to slide against the floorboards, hitting against my foot. Thank God it was the black handle that struck my foot, and not the pointy end. Reaching down, I picked it up quickly…and…and…and…

…And what? – did you seriously think I was going to murder someone, right here, right now in broad daylight? I'm not a crazy psychopath like my dear sister-in-law.

She doesn't even deserve that high of a ranking. Let's call her 'that thing' instead.

Francesca only chuckled mercilessly. "Going to kill me now? I'd like to see you try."

I gripped the knife handle tightly, and my eyes started to harden. As much as I wanted to smash my knuckles up her nose or wring her head off, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm not a killer. I don't intend to see myself wearing hideous black and white outfits for the rest of my life. "That's what my heart wants to do, but I'm not going to do it. You're not worth my time in jail."

Francesca only muttered a simple "That's not what they think".

I raised a furrowed eyebrow, deeply confused. "What do you mean 'they'? And who the hell is 'they'?" I just asked the same question, didn't I? I half-heartedly apologize: Engaging myself in brutal brawls usually tampers with my logical way of thinking.

Not that I have a logical side, anyway.

It was then when Francesca had unleashed her most vile weapon known to mankind – or, at the moment, to my slowly deteriorating ears. She belted out a scream so high-pitched I dropped the knife onto the floor, and it clattered against the floor.

I'm sure that the knife is pretty banged up by now and that Dad is probably going to murder me with the dented end, but did it seriously matter?

"What the FUCK is wrong with you?" I shouted over the deafening noise while covering my own ears with my free hands for protection. "Are you insane?"

I only caught a glimpse of that malicious smile on her tanned face before the tears started to glisten 'with sadness from her brutal past as she battled her way to the top of the modeling industry' in her eyes.

"Don't hurt me! Don't hurt me!" She continued to wail, pressing a clenched fist against her chest while she cowered towards the back of the white wall, leaving a thin trail of blood evidently on the gray carpet.

"What do you mean 'hurt you'?" I hissed, completely annoyed at how she was bending the truth on the whole ordeal. What was her exact purpose, anyway? I'm seriously questioning if she's sane or not…no joke. "I never 'hurt you', you – "

"Maximum Ride!"

Shit.

It's also now that I realized…even carpet cleaner wasn't going to be enough to get me out of this horrible mess.

* * *

"Max, what in fuck's sake are you doing to my girlfriend?" Ari's question repeated furiously as he stormed into the demolished practice room, pushing my aching body against the wall. I only twitched slightly, but I wasn't flinching because of Ari's violence.

It was because of the fact he refused to believe me. And trust me; when somebody you care about doesn't trust you…it hurts. It hurts a lot.

"I told you, Ari," I said, narrowing my eyes while pointing a finger at that crumpled and whimpering Francesca on the ground. "I wasn't the one who was perpetrating this nonsense. She started this. She was the one who – "

"Oh yeah, right," Ari sneered sarcastically, cutting me off. It was another blow to my heavy heart. I couldn't believe that my own twin brother would trust his own girlfriend than his blood-related sister. "Like Francesca would actually carry kitchen knives around when she's pregnant!"

"She's not even fucking pregnant, you hare-brained idiot!" I yelled, spraying angry spit across his face. "You're the one who's being the retard here! Do you realize that? We were all fooled by your lovely actress! She's the one who's lying here! Can you just listen to me?"

**SLAP!**

It was obvious he wasn't going to listen to a word that emitted from my mouth.

I was overwhelmingly flabbergasted at the pain that started to erupt from my cheek. I glared upwards at Ari, who was seen breathing heavily, with his hand was held high, signifying that he did slap me.

"You're the one who's behaving like an idiot." Ari spat bitterly. "You know Max, if you were envious of my relationship with Francesca, you could've just told me and we could've talked. But no, you decided to freaking fuck around with her when the two of you were home alone."

I stood there, stunned as my hand left the handprint etched brightly on my cheek. "W-what did you just say?"

Iggy's quiet voice was suddenly heard from the corner of the practice room. "He does have a point, Max."

In this situation, I could proudly say that it's my first time having my heart being ripped into shreds into full mutilation.

"Are you fucking with me here?" I asked incredulously. "Then tell me, what's my motive? What's my freaking motive for trying to kill Francesca?"

Iggy only turned his head while averting his gaze with me.

"What's up, Iggy? Are you too ashamed to gather the courage to look at me?" I asked.

"Everybody saw how you acted yesterday afternoon." Iggy explained, getting to his feet while crossing his arms against his chest. "We can't deny the fact that you were acting super unpleasant towards Ari and Francesca."

I rolled my eyes at his ignorance. "You don't even know the half of it. Do you even know what she did to him? She left my brother for a Porsche owner, and then now she's back to…to…she's back to murder me!" I finished loudly, breathing heavily.

Iggy only scoffed while flipping his neat strawberry-blonde hair. "You're fighting a losing battle here. If you're trying to say that Francesca's out to murder you, then back up your hypothesis with some evidence."

"You're taking sides because I broke your heart," I stated resentfully, eyes flashing dangerously at him. "You're joining the Ari and Francesca team because of that small incident. Can you please look at this issue objectively? You're putting personal feelings into it, and clearly, I don't think you're thinking straight!"

His nostrils started to flare angrily, but they disappeared just as soon as it had come. "I'm not taking sides because of that. I'm only looking at this in this light because your arguments are very one-sided right now, and if you can't back up what you say…I have no choice but to not believe you."

I glanced up at the slightly frightened Gazzy, who was still standing a few metres away from me. "Gazzy?" I began as gently as I could, feeling as tiny as a nut-nibbling squirrel. If he didn't trust me…I don't even know what I'm going to do. "You believe me, don't you? I never hurt her. She was the one who hurt me first."

Gazzy only muttered a single sentence before extending his hand to Francesca to help her get back to her feet. I felt the last remaining bit of hope inside my heart get sucked out by these leeches that I once called my friends. "…Mom told me to never lie. I can't tell a lie, Max. I'm – "

I shook my head, pressing my hands to my face as this nightmare began to unravel before me. No…no…this…this just couldn't be happening right now…

"So what?" I asked finally. "You're all voting me out?" I glanced around at the few faces around me. Fang and Dad were standing outside the practice room, just watching the whole scenario with distress set on their faces.

"I second that motion." It was obviously Ari. My heart started to clench tightly, and make no mistake: It was only a matter of moments (Make that seconds) before I would break down.

"…" I took Iggy's silence as a yes. It was going to speed up the procedure much more quickly than I thought.

"….Max…" Gazzy's lip started to tremble uncontrollably, but it was enough to let me know that his decision was on behalf of the whole team.

I threw my hands up in submission, feeling my eyes start to water. "Fine. I get it. I'll go. I'll leave. Nice knowing you."

Just as I turned on my heel and towards the door, I averted my gaze towards the floor. "Excuse me." I didn't have the courage to face the two people that I cared for the most. I didn't want to listen to Fang's voice, nor did I want to hear Dad's…

Because I knew that if any one of them uttered out a single word, I would start crying right then and there.

Dad refused to budge from his spot. Instead, he just squeezed my hand gently. I glanced upwards as the first few silent tears started to make their way down my battered cheek. Dad stared straight back at me with sad eyes.

But the message concealed in them was clear. This was not a comfort session. This was…this was…

This was my own father telling me that I should go somewhere else for the time being. I was so confused at the moment. "What are you telling me, Dad?" I mouthed to him anxiously. "Are you trying to tell me that 'everything will be okay'? Or are you asking me to leave?"

Dad only gave off a sad smile while shaking his head.

I wasn't in the mood to decipher his cryptic message, but just as I was about to escape up to the safe haven of a cube I call my room, a strong hand reached out and pulled me back. I could recognize that tug any day, but I wasn't going to turn back. Why bother? Why bother when I know all he's going to do is side with Francesca?

"No."

I whirled around, completely flabbergast. "W-what did you just say?" My eyes started to widen in shock as Fang's gentle and soft hand reached over and patted at the handprint gingerly, tender enough so I wouldn't flinch away.

"No," He repeated firmly, putting an end to my never ending list of questions. He turned around, staring menacingly at the group that had formed an unfair alliance against me. I cowered backwards slightly as Ari's nostrils flared dangerously, nails digging deep into his palm.

I mean, sure, I've seen Ari pissed before – but this was pissed off on a whole new level. Like raging Simba the Lion angry…and as much as I do love Disney movies, Simba still scares me slightly.

"You saw what she did to my girlfriend!" Ari spat furiously, storming towards him. He grabbed a fistful of Fang's shirt and pushed him roughly against the wall. "Not only are you acting completely cool about the whole situation, you're saying NO to letting her go!"

Fang's eyes started to flash hazardously while cracking his knuckles. Oh God, oh God, oh God – please don't let them engage in a full-blown fist fight. Otherwise, I seriously wouldn't know how to repay Fang with my whole list of debts that I still owe him.

…Or maybe a few debts, but are we discussing that right now? Obviously not!

"Technically speaking, Ari," Fang replied icily, putting emphasis on his name. "We never SAW Max beating the crap out of your girlfriend. Besides, are you so blind as a – "

Holy shit – he did not just insult Ari.

"Zubat!" Gazzy piped up enthusiastically, waving his arm around in the air to the point it looked like he was about to crap his pants. I shot him a warning glance. _Don't help._

Fang suddenly pushed Ari away, who staggered backwards a few feet. He wrenched my arm painfully and, in a swift movement, rolled up the sleeves of my sweatshirt to my elbows. Fang pointed at the criss-cross of injuries and scratches that covered my skin.

"Wouldn't you like to take a look at that?" Fang asked softly, almost painfully. Taking this opportunity, I stole a glance at him…and…what the…his usually stoic dark eyes looked so…so…

Breathtaking, yet heartbreaking at the same time – it's so uncanny.

Fang's head whipped upwards, and Iggy and Gazzy were now staring at the both of us incredulously, as if the two of them had just managed to witness true love or something. Not us, right? Yeah, uh…not us...

"W-well, what does that prove? Absolutely nothing!" Ari declared almost uneasily, avoiding total eye contact with us. "Maybe those bruises were from…from several days ago when she was still in Washington! Maybe…maybe she tripped on her own dress! She's PRONE to tripping on her dresses, even since she was a toddler!"

"You're fighting a losing battle here, Ari," Fang scoffed under his breath, letting go of my arm roughly. "The only thing that I repent right now? It's the fact that I have to deal with an idiot like you, so crazed and blinded by love that you'd slap your own sister for your girlfriend."

"She seriously tried to hurt me!" Francesca squeaked through her weeping, running towards Ari for support. She collided straight into him, who only comforted her with whispering phrases that sounded suspiciously like: 'Honey Bunny, don't you worry about it, I'm going to protect you from now on!' and 'My angelic dove, please don't get too upset! You need your rest!'

It looks like my Puke-O-Meter, which barely recovered from yesterdays' yuck fest, is going to break down again.

"So what?" Ari asked after a while, letting his arm wrap around Francesca's waist comfortably. "You're just going to let her _**STAY**_? Y'know, we voted, and the results are tallied to be three against one! She goes – _**NOW**_."

"I don't think so. Who said you were going to the make the decisions around here? I'm the leader, and I get the last call on who stays and who goes." Unmistakably, his long fingers gripped my wrist as if he were going to lose me somehow. I jumped slightly at the touch, but hey, that feeling of being protected is…seriously so magical.

…

Peh, forget what I said. As soon as he noticed what his heart-responding hand was doing, he let go immediately.

…And from this day forward, I'm pleased to say that it's the first time I have ever felt so rejected (Aside from the moment when Washington State University decided to decline my offer).

"If I'm allowed to say…" Dad's voice began slowly from the doorframe. He sauntered in with heavy footsteps, standing in between the two groups (Yours truly and…Ari's little posse).

"What's up, Dad? Going to side with them, too?" Ari accused intensely, his grip on Francesca tighter than necessary. "I knew it – you've always preferred that thing" – Pardon me? I'm actually quite pleased I rank as a 'thing' in Ari's eye – "Compared to me! It was always 'Max, Max, Max, Max, Max'…"

"You know that's not true, Ari," Dad began firmly. "Your behaviour right now is putting me, as your manager and father, to shame. I have never been more disgusted with you. Well, now, that being said…" He glanced at me carefully, refusing to give off any hints of what his next move.

Seriously, he could be George Clooney Number Two or something.

"As of now, all of us are just too furious with one another to speak calmly. Max," Dad said. My eyes perked up almost immediately, and I nodded, giving him my full attention. "You're not going to move anywhere, and that's final."

As stoic as Fang's face could be, I couldn't deny his sigh of relief after Dad had explained my future. Ari, on the other hand? He started to give off the makings of a very vile and violent sneer. I am so ashamed to be Thing Number Infinity's twin sister.

"W-what are you talking about, Dad? How could you! Aren't you going to look at this objectively? She…she…just look at how traumatized my baby is!" Ari shrieked. It took both Gazzy and Iggy to pull on the back of his sweat-drenched shirt to keep him from strangling his own father's neck to death.

"Don't make this harder than it's supposed to be, Ari," Dad pleaded. "I don't consider letting my daughter sleep on the streets, especially since nobody knows how this…" He gestured towards the bloody and bruised mess below. "Disorder came to be, but I know Max, and Max isn't the type to act rashly."

"You need to fulfill MY wishes, too!" By this point, Ari was almost screaming, and with Francesca's continuous fake bawls about pain, I wished I could've stuffed a handful of painkillers up her nose.

That'd be a pretty sight – especially on a petite-sized model.

"And your wish is to let your sister sleep on the streets?" Dad asked questioningly.

"I – I didn't…but…" Ari began to stammer – an unnatural phenomenon I wasn't used to witnessing in public.

"If there's one thing I can't tolerate," Dad scolded, crossing his arms against his chest. "It's the lack of respect you have for both your sister and I. Naturally, I would've tried to compliment both perspectives of the two parties, but in this case? I'm going to let Max stay, and that's that."

"What if that thing tries to hurt Francesca again? Who will be responsible for the safety of my embryo?"

At that moment, I just had to roll my eyes. Who wouldn't?

"Everyone in the household will be watching Max and her every move, alright?" Dad was close to blowing up now. I could literally see the smoke escaping from his ears. "That's the most I can do for you. The rest will depend on Francesca and her carefulness, as well as your responsibility."

"…Fine, but I'm demanding that thing – "

"It's not 'that thing'. She has a name, and her name is Max." Fang interrupted. I swear, if he keeps this up, I think my future career aspiration should be changed from 'biologist' to 'Nicholas Fang Robertson's personal maid'.

…And don't get any wrong ideas there – I mean a personal slave.

Yeah, I should just shut up right now.

"She's not going to be staying in that room any longer." Ari growled protectively. "It's mine and Francesca's. I called it."

"Don't be so territorial. You're not an animal…" Fang pretended to look thoughtful. "Unless you'd prefer to strip off your pants and urinate all over the carpet to declare Max's room as your private cube of sexual pleasure."

I couldn't help it. Don't blame me. I started to snort hysterically, almost on the verge of choking on my own spit. The worst part was that Fang was treating this as a serious issue, pulling on an extremely cold and stern façade.

"You're kidding." Ari muttered with pink tinged on his cheeks.

"I'm not."

"Either way, I'm not going to stand for that – "

"Max." God, I just love the way my name rolls off Fang's tongue.

"I'm not going to stand for Max to stay in that bedroom any longer. It's mine, and whatever you want to comment about next?" Ari asked dangerously, waving his second finger around. "Don't you dare say it…"

Dad, noticing my confusion, just shot me a weak – but comforting – smile. "Don't worry about it, Max. With me in charge, you're never going to have to result to sleeping on the streets. I'll make sure of it."

Are my ears deceiving me? Or did Francesca just cough out a very crude 'Fuck you, asshole' whilst having tears stream down her cheeks?

Meh – with Francesca, anything was possible.

The only problem for me right now? It was just trying to find a bedroom to share that wouldn't result in my sudden death.

* * *

You know, I'm actually a very lucky girl. I mean, I may have a twin brother who loathes me to the point of no return, a future (Hopefully not) sister-in-law that refuses to state the reason why she wants to murder me and two very close friends who are siding with the enemy and refuse to trust a single word I say.

Sure, of course I can take that. No big deal – it's just another walk in the park. And by 'walk', I mean a very strenuous, sixty-mile tread.

However, being able to have a well-balanced dinner and toss the broccoli into the nearby garbage can with my left hand (And have it land right on target) and being able to share a bedroom with a certain band mate – well, life certainly can't get any better than this.

"Ouch!"

Except that.

"Ow!" I winced again, slapping Fang's hand away. "Don't rub so hard, it actually hurts!" Instead, he continued to ignore my cries of pure agony, and massaged even harder onto the last of my bruises located on my arm.

"If I don't rub hard enough," He muttered after a few seconds of silence. I watched as a few pieces of hardened yellow yolk fell through the towel and onto his clean bathroom floor. "Your bruises are going to take a lot longer to heal."

"Where in the world did you even get the idea to wrap a hard-boiled egg in a towel and massage it onto wounds?" I snapped, jumping at the touch of a hot object on my skin.

Okay, fine, what I meant to say was: An extremely, terribly scorching object heated to temperatures so high it could fry doughnuts – better?

"It's called 'the Internet'," Fang smirked, finally getting up from kneeling on the floor and discarding the remains of the protein-rich food into the garbage.

"I weep for that lovely egg…could've been used in an omelette or dipped in bread to make French toast," I mumbled sadly, refusing to torture myself by thinking of all that delicious food.

"Look on the bright side – at least you realize that I can be a pretty awesome doctor without having to go through medical school, right?" Fang asked, smirking slightly as he washed his hands.

I rolled my eyes, getting up from the toilet seat slowly. "Of course, Doctor Robertson…anything you say." I stumbled weakly onto the leather sofa resting against his dust-covered bookshelf, getting ready to pull the blanket over my head.

"Max, not now – there's something I have to talk to you about." Fang said sharply, gripping my hand to refrain it from moving.

"But I'm tired!" I whined, glaring at him.

"It'll just take a few minutes." Fang promised, but obviously, I was tucked in and comfortable – and when Maximum Ride was tucked in and comfortable, I refuse to be out of bed, shivering, and uncomfortable.

"Can I talk here?" I asked.

Fang heaved a sigh before rolling his office chair towards me. "…I'll have you know that I'm only giving in to your wishes because you've been through a very terrible ordeal this afternoon."

Is it just me? Or is Fang getting nicer? Yeah, I think this is only one of those rare times that I actually pick the second answer.

I propped myself up on my elbows, glancing at his perplexed facial appearance. "What's up?" I asked worriedly. "Did something happen today that I didn't manage to witness?"

"No, Max," He began, and then heaved another sigh. Oh no, this isn't good. One sigh plus another sigh probably means either trouble, tiredness, boredom, worriedness or a mixture of all of four. Please don't let it be trouble, please don't let it be trouble, please don't let it be trouble…

Fang reached out and entwined his long fingers with my own, and I had to suck in a breath to keep myself steady with just one elbow upheld on my rather lumpy pillow. "I'm just worried about you."

I raised a suspicious eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Don't you find all of this…" He gestured around his room with his free hand, making overly large circles.

"You mean your room? I find it pretty comfortable."

"Sarcasm's a lovely language, but we're not discussing that right now," He grumbled, but his eyes started to twinkle mischievously. See! I KNEW my sardonic tongue that type of effect on men. Mom: You're completely wrong. Cynicism works two times better than flirtatious greets.

I could read him straight away, however. I glanced at him, tilting my head to the side, and for one, he was drop dead serious about this. "Something happened today at the press conference, right?"

He tapped the side of my head repeatedly. "You're much cleverer than I thought. You're right though – something did happen."

My body immediately tensed up, my thoughts and ideas jumbled together like a mixed-up puzzle. "Is it related to Ari?"

"Get this: It wasn't just related to Ari. In fact, it relates to you, Manager Jeb, Lissa and her ex-kung-fu-fighting bodyguard." Fang said darkly.

"L-Lissa!" I stammered. "B-but, that's crazy! How is Lissa involved in this?"

"Lissa came to the press conference today, announcing that she had some special declaration. Then, all of a sudden, her trained bodyguard…"

"No shit, Fang. Aren't all bodyguards highly skilled in some sort of martial arts?"

"Just listen." He said. "I swear to God, I saw him drop some sort of smoke bomb behind his back, and white smoke started to sweep through the lobby like wildfire. But through the smoke, I was able to eavesdrop on one conversation…"

"Regarding?"

"Regarding Lissa, Ari and you. So it seems that…" Fang crossed his arms against his chiselled chest. Do not ask me why I'm staring at his chest. I just was. "Lissa found out that you were impersonating for your brother since the beginning of time."

A sudden painful memory started to flash in my head, and I suddenly groaned inwardly. How could I ever forget? The day of my welcoming celebration…discovering my intolerance for alcohol…and the flashy colours of vibrant leopard ripping (Okay, more like removing) my shirt from my body…

I guess it wasn't my imagination – it was reality.

"So what happened next?" I asked curiously.

"The Prez ordered security to turn on the fans in the lobby and opened all of the windows to force the smoke out."

"I'll bet it was total pandemonium." I commented.

"Not as bad as the pandemonium we had after the smoke disintegrated," Fang replied, his eyes glinting brightly. Hmm – was he amused about something? "And we were found staring at two people who looked like they just came out from a quickie."

"Lissa…raped…Ari?" I finished uncertainly, hoping that this wasn't the case..

"Lissa pretty much trashed Ari, and ripped up his clothes in order to find his 'breasts'."

Oh God. I palmed my forehead, shaking my head in repulsion. "You can't be serious…"

"My hypothesis is that after reading that shocking article about my 'secret girlfriend' from Washington, she decided that it was the last straw and she was going to take this opportunity expose your true identity."

"So I guess I should say that I was saved by Ari, because without him, I seriously wouldn't be sleeping in your room right now." I mumbled softly.

Now that I mention it…I shouldn't even be sleeping **HERE** in the first place.

"So what happened after that? Did security fling Lissa and her assassin-in-crime out?"

"Well, Lissa has been exposed to the daily dramas and traumas of the Entertainment industry since she was five years old doing cereal commercials," Fang explained. "So she immediately straightened herself up, trying to pretend that she knew nothing about it."

"And let me guess," I said, rolling my eyes. "Lissa started to act innocent, weeping about how Ari raped her?"

"On the contrary, no, but very nice guess," Fang replied, slightly pleased. "When Ari was shouting with fury at how security sucked crap, Lissa took this chance to escape with her bodyguard. Even the Prez was totally preoccupied with how unprofessional Ari was behaving."

"Naturally. I know how much of a handful Ari can be when he's under tremendous amounts of pressure, especially after having his favourite jacket ripped up…" I sighed, rubbing my aching temples. "But what's your point? I mean, I'm joyous that you've decided to share today's current events with me – including the fact I rarely watch the news – but what was the point of bringing it up?"

I didn't even add the fact that I would've been perfectly content without having to deal with all that mumbo jumbo crap.

Fang started to purse his lips, looking thoughtful. I gotta say – watching my betrothed (I'm kidding, I'm kidding – no pitchforks up my butt, okay?) question about our future (Did I say 'our'? I meant his) worriedly…it's hot.

"I can't help but feel like Lissa's little dramatic scene and Francesca's sudden murder spree are related. I mean," Fang added as he noticed my ears starting to perk up. "Both are out to make your life totally miserable."

"As a matter of fact, Francesca did," I spat in annoyance, cracking my knuckles. Man, if I had her in my grasp right now, I'd break off all her fingers one by one. Then, I'll…I'll…

I peered at him again, who was staring at me incredulously. "What's up? Never seen a girl act violent before?"

"Violent really isn't your style," Fang commented, ruffling my hair playfully. "You might want to try smiling more often. Or act bemused."

"I'm rarely bemused!" I snapped.

"That's why I said act," He replied, pressing his lips quickly against my forehead. I froze at the touch, but there was just something about it that felt totally…natural/sweet/any other adjective that you would prefer. "You can be pretty cute when you're confused."

"Sorry to burst your bubble, but unlike my pig head of a brother, I'm quite alert." I said, pulling the blanket over my head. "See you in the morning, Flirtatious Fang."

I couldn't fall asleep. Even after Fang turned off the lights and had drifted off to sleep in just a few minutes, I was still wide awake, probably too shocked from the terrible ordeal I faced this afternoon…

And I know it's just me, but the longer the night went on, the colder I felt. The blanket wasn't THAT thin, the pillow was comfortable enough so it wouldn't strain my neck, and since the sofa was from IKEA, I'm certain it would make a great cot.

Instead, I tossed the blanket over my body, watched it crumple to a heap on the floor and tiptoed over to Fang…who was…

"Holy crap!" I half-shouted as I came face to face with a wide-eyed, smirking Fang. "Is that how you sleep?"

"Aren't you funny?" He said, giving off a breathtaking smile. Fang sat up in his bed and patted the empty space (Perfect for someone my size) on the mattress beside him. "It's cold in this room, isn't it?"

"I'll say," I muttered, fixing my bangs with my fingers. I continued to stare at him, who was still (Absentmindedly, I hope) patting that beautiful space on the bed and, if I should mention, fully clad in sweatpants and a thick sweatshirt.

Obviously, he was prepared.

"Get in," Fang said as he shifted over to his left. "My blanket is warm enough."

"You turned down the heat so I'd get in with you, didn't you? Didn't you! I swear to God, you're hopeless!" I accused, pointing a guilty finger at him.

Fang shrugged. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but you're freezing cold, and I am personally welcoming you to join me in bed. Take the offer, or leave me be and let me sleep."

"You're a sly wolf, you…you…" I grumbled, imagining all of the possible and impossible wiles and ways to castrate him in his sleep.

"Good night, Max," Fang murmured tiredly, sprawling himself out like a starfish. No, correction: Make that a very active starfish, hungry for krill.

How it happened, I don't think I'll ever know, but one thing was for sure: I soon found my head resting against Fang's chest with his arms (Stupid, freaking starfish arms) wrapped around my waist tenderly.

I wanted to say so many things to him. For example, I could've shouted at him and slapped him for being such a pervert, or I could've pushed him off the bed while I wrapped the blanket around my freezing body.

"You smell nice," I muttered bashfully, snuggling deeper into him. But NO, he made me say the lamest compliment a girl could ever give a guy. The worst part was: I could literally see him smile happily, giving himself a well-deserved high-five.

I'll admit though: He's the cleverest, flirtiest and slyest wolf I have ever met. And here I am, falling for his charm and charisma – great, I'm just another teenager who fell into his trap of love.

For now though, I was just going to make sure that my fingers warmed up. I didn't want them to fall off.

Appealing and charismatic as he is, there was no way I was going to forget this. Should I soak his clothes in hot water? Or snip up his underwear? Ah, decisions, decisions…

* * *

"God, he's so annoying, I'm so glad he's asleep now," Francesca mumbled irritably. Slowly, she got up in her bed and glanced at the snoring figure beside her, twitching every few seconds. As much as she wanted to kick him until there was no tomorrow, she had to restrain.

Fuck – patience was never one of virtues.

Usually, Francesca would've been in a rather good mood, but judging from Ari's previous complaints about the press conference, she knew that she was going to be in for a good scolding session.

Francesca had no idea why she was forced to take part in this so-called 'mission'. I mean, come on – who does that bitch think she is?

To put it bluntly, Francesca was a petite supermodel.

She was the five foot six inches with gorgeous, flowing brown hair, long legs a mile long and a naturally pretty complexion. Obviously, her outer appearance was supposed to walk the runways for Victoria's Secret and Louis Vuitton – not commit crimes.

God, there was a whole list of torture tactics that she wanted to use on that spoiled bitch, but right now wasn't the time. Not now, anyway.

Without making a single noise, she slipped out of bed, got into her slippers and quickly disappeared out the door.

Francesca quickly scanned the area, making sure none of the household members were still awake. Once she was finished, Francesca escaped onto the patio and cursed under her breath for kicking into a potted plant.

"Who in the world puts a potted plant near the doorway? God damnit, these people are serious psychos…" She muttered nastily before hopping towards the swinging bench and sinking into it. After this entire ordeal was over, she demanded a seven week spa treatment.

Francesca reached into the depth of her bath robe and whipped out her vibrating cell phone and flipped it open, extremely tempted to cuss the crap out of the bitch, but she stayed in control. _Keep cool. Keep cool. Keep. Cool._

"Talk to me," Francesca greeted. _Lord, kill me now if the time is right. I'd rather go to Hell than put up with her shit._

"Don't talk to me in that tone. Do you realize how embarrassed I was?"

"I – "

"You never informed me like Dylan told you to a couple of days ago in that e-mail. Do you have eyes? Or more importantly, do you know how to read?"

"I – " Okay, it was her fault. Francesca wasn't dyslexic – she's prone to misreading some details. Perhaps it's better to make that a LOT of details…

"If you texted me before, I wouldn't have embarrassed myself. In fact, I could've been flying to Paris for lunch with Gaspard Ulliel, but you just had to ruin everything."

"Look, I'll admit that it was my fault I never texted you. I didn't read that small bit on the e-mail, alright?" Francesca explained, resting her cheek on her palm.

"…You're only permitted to committing one mistake. You've already messed up – don't do it again."

"…I understand." After taking a few deep breaths, Francesca opened her mouth to speak again. "What do you expect me to do now? I wasn't able to slit her throat open, and God, everyone in the household is starting to act like an eagle, watching our every move."

"She's that good of a fighter, huh?"

Francesca snorted, perching her legs on top of the empty vase in front of her. "She either learned to fight through video games or her father."

"I'm not amused."

_Alright then, it looks like humour is something that she can't take. _"What's my next step?" She asked, mentally repeating the phrase 'keep cool' in her brain.

After a few moments of silence, Francesca heaved a sigh, ready to press the 'End Call' button her cell phone before her voice sounded on the phone again.

"Make the girl's life as miserable as possible, and then make her leave."

Francesca raised an eyebrow, drumming her long fingers against her thighs. "Didn't you want me to kill her in the first place? Why do you want her to leave? And for what purpose?"

"I know, I know, but now I've changed my target."

"To who?"

"…Her brother."

Francesca felt her blood run bone-chillingly cold, but she stayed as calm as she could. "Why?"

"She's going to die under my hand. I have decided to personally assassinate her myself. This job should be easy for you – I've heard he pretty much worships you at your feet."

"So…" Francesca began, fanning herself to make sure she stops blushing.

"I don't care whatever method you choose." She snapped, causing Francesca to wince. "But make sure you make him die a slow, painful death."

Slow and painful wasn't her specialty – but Francesca liked challenges. And this was one challenge she was willing to take on.

"I got it."

And she shut off the phone with a snap.

* * *

**DUNDUNDUNNNNNNNNN! Who do you think Francesca was talking to! XDD Anyways, I hoped that you enjoyed Chapter 19! Please feel free to drop me some reviews, comments and constructive criticism. Everything is absolutely loved and welcomed!**

**Once again, I just wanted to say thank you to all of my 'My Fair Lady' supporters. I seriously couldn't have wrote this much without your long reviews and comments to keep me going! Virtual cookies and muffins for all! I'll give the shout-outs in the Epilogue, so stay tuned! C: **

**I also wanted to say thanks to everyone who wished me congratulations on my Graduation, haha. You guys are so, so awesome, and I couldn't have asked for anything more! So in the meantime, enjoy the sunshine (Wherever you are)! Have an awesome rest of July, and we'll see you all very soon once again! **

**Luff,**

**Sam C:**

**P.S. ARE ANY OF YOU PSYCHED TO SEE HARRY POTTER? I KNOW I AM! **


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey everyone! C: It's Sam C: here, finally bringing you an update on My Fair Lady! I apologize for the delay. I know it's summertime, and I should be given more time to spend on my stories, but recently, my grandmother (As you can see on my profile later) got sick, so I had to take care of her, as well as the fact that I have been doing volunteer work and stuff. Gosh, I never knew how tiring it can be to face a hundred kids five days a week! LOLOL XD I just realized that (Which is also why I have no plans to become a teacher)! **

**So, onto the good stuff, you may have read in the previous chapter that I was going to have one more as the finale, right? WELL, I decided to write TWO chapters for my finale, meaning yes...this is Part 1 LOLOL XD Part 2 is coming up very shortly, I promise! C: In the meantime, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU to my lovely readers! Thanks for helping My Fair Lady reach 375 reviews! YES, 375! I seriously couldn't have done this without all of your help! C: **

**So, without further ado, let's begin...20 point 1! XDD**

**Max - I find you to be a very lazy creature, Sammy.  
Sam C: - ?  
Gazzy - YOU DIDN'T UPDATE FOR THE LONGEST, LIKE, FREAKING TIME!  
Sam C: - Well, exCUSE me if my life doesn't revolve around a computer, twenty four seven!  
Iggy - Give it a rest. You guys are so loud...  
Sam C: - Are you asleep or something? Cause I'm totally awake.  
Fang - Of course you are. You're like a creature of the night.  
Sam [: - I want to suck your blood? Puh-lease. Even I have my own tastes and preferences.  
Angel - Ladies and gentlemen? Off we go!**

* * *

Generally, mornings are actually my most favourite time of the day. I get to eat hearty breakfasts, go for a ten mile jog (Okay; total exaggeration right there) if my heart so desires, and best of all, I'm usually secluded and alone during the AM.

Unfortunately, that was not the case today.

More specifically speaking, this morning.

Therefore, I can hereby declare that mornings are now not my favourite time of the day.

"Pass the salt." I grumbled underneath my breath. Come on – I'm only a young adult. I highly doubt that a tiny teaspoon of salt will barely do anything drastic to my heart. Besides, I have a rather unhealthy obsession with salty eggs.

It's in Dad's blood – I got my taste preferences from him. One thing I didn't get from him though?

His calmness, his collected coolness, and his undying patience for mentally retarded idiotic twin brothers – or in his case, mentally retarded idiotic sons.

Chew, chew, chew is all I hear emitting from Ari's non-brushed, foul-smelling mouth, smothered in little lipstick smears from Francesca.

_Keep cool, Max. Keep cool. Keep cool, keep cool, keep cool –_

_Oh, shut up already! _

I glanced at Dad, who was standing behind Ari, watching my every move like a wretched eagle. I gestured furiously towards the salt shaker, standing peacefully beside Ari's bowl of cereal.

Dad sighed half-heartedly, running a hand through his greasy hair. Judging by the dark circles and that new wrinkle on his forehead, I can hypothesize that Dad didn't get much snooze time last night. I gotta say though – watching him and his miserable figure, it seemed pretty selfish of me to complain about seasonings.

It was my turn to sigh now as I poked at my bare cheese and egg omelette gingerly. No sodium chloride for me today, I'm afraid!

"Take your stupid salt. Just because I'm pissed off at you, it doesn't mean I don't acknowledge your demands." Ari snarled, sliding the salt shaker across the table. "Just don't die from too much sodium. I'm not going to be responsible for your sudden death."

"I won't count on it." I shot back.

"Yum, yum, yum, yum, thanks for the wonderful meal!" Gazzy sing-sang as he glided serenely (I know what you're thinking: How in the world can someone of Gazzy's calibre 'glide serenely' from the burning stove top to the dining table? Yeah, I don't know either) towards us.

...And I'm not even going to comment on his oversized plate filled to the edge with...pretty much every single thing imaginable.

"I've got enough batter to make a dozen more, Gazzy," Iggy called from the stove, hanging his flour-dusted apron onto one of the coat racks. "If you want extras, just call me."

Between mouthfuls, Gazzy grinned cheekily. Ugh, if someone is available, please teach him the basics of table manners. It's not that enjoyable to watch pancake mush get wolfed down by this regular Tyrannosaurus.

Hmm, on second thought...as much as I love food, I just can't watch Gazzy scarf down six pancakes, fourteen sausages, and five eggs scrambled to perfection and a huge bowl of oatmeal sprinkled with mixed berries.

This is not right. This is NOT right, even for him.

"Gazzy," I opened my mouth, dropping my fork back onto my plate. "Are you binging or something?"

"I'm not binging!" Gazzy protested, rolling up his T-shirt and deliberately poking his stomach.

Correction: Watching Gazzy do a miniature strip in front of me does much more damage than mushy pancake batter.

"Then, what is _**THIS**_ called?" I asked all too pleasantly, gesturing towards his plate of food. Please don't tell me he's going on the infamously harsh 'Lissa' diet.

"It's called 'enjoying food while it lasts'." Ari scoffed, getting up from his seat and placing his dishes in the sink. "But I guess you won't know anything about it anyways. You're way too busy trying to fit into that bikini for Fang."

Okay, _**THAT'S IT**_. Salt or no salt, I'm not going to take his crap.

"You're a fucking asshole, you know that?" I growled, slamming my fists angrily against the table.

"Eep, my maple syrup!"

My bad. Sorry, Gaz.

"So what if I know that I'm acting like a total dick?" Ari challenged, cracking his knuckles dangerously. "You know how much I want to beat you up right now? Were you that naive to think that just because I handed you the salt, it means that everything is fine between us?"

Ari knows the word naive? Wow. Either he's been polishing his vocabulary, or he's been studying the Merriam-Webster's every single night.

...But sadly, no, I am _NOT_ impressed by it.

"Nobody is going to punch the crap out of anyone here." Fang's voice called from the top of the stairway, who was seen rubbing a towel through his hair.

Thank God for Fang and his dripping wet (And hot) hair.

"Who asked you? This is between Max and I. It has** NOTHING** to do with you. Nothing at all!" Ari cried, circling his arms around Francesca, who was still sniffling slightly with her sad bloodshot puppy dog eyes.

Pft, as if.

"Are you sure about that?" Fang asked, leaning against the doorframe casually with the towel hanging limply on his shoulder. "I wouldn't think so, judging by your little bitch fest that you had yesterday."

Believe it or not, Ari started to flush red. Bright red. And when I mean 'bright red', I mean as red as a stop light. Instead of responding, he started to mumble phrases and phrases of incoherent sentences under his breath before dragging Francesca up the flight of hovering stairs and into their seclusion.

Dad finally heaved a sigh, palming his forehead at the same time. "That boy is crazy in love. I don't know how to fix him and have him start thinking straight."

"Dad, I think my ears are going whack. I thought you said crazy in love?" I asked uncertainly, leaning against the dining table casually. "I do suppose you mean crazy in lust," I replied.

"No, no, I mean crazy in love." _Cue Beyonce's butt-shaking dance. _"I've never seen him act so protective and defensive before."

"It's the hormones. Those things are nasty and pretty much knock out everyone's common sense for an unknown period of time." I said with gritted teeth, with recollecting memories of previous embarrassing moments that were caused by those highly detestable, awful internal secretions.

"Well, those hormones better suck it up and head back to wherever they're generated." Dad replied, jabbing angrily at his Blackberry. "I can't have him acting like a brat today."

"And why's that? Is there a photo shoot planned for today?" I asked curiously.

"None of your business." Iggy interrupted coldly from the living room, his pastry-clutched hand missing his mouth by a long shot. "You're not part of the group anymore. In fact..." He narrowed his eyes towards me, and I him.

Unfortunately for Iggy, mesmerizing periwinkle blue doesn't work on me anymore.

...It doesn't work on me. Yes, I've officially confirmed it.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked sharply, sucking in a breath. God, I hated having arguments like this that cut the stillness of early mornings like a knife.

My muse is still here. Awesome.

"Let's think about this for a second, shall we?" Iggy began with a rather cold (I'm not going to forget the adjective demonic) smirk. "Number one..." He raised a single crumb-encrusted finger. "You nearly went on a maniacal murder spree yesterday, proving the point that you aren't sane."

"Since when am I not sane?" I shrieked angrily. "I'm perfectly – "

"Number two," He cut in, raising another finger. "Even after our rather accurate hypothesis, you're still living with us, proving that you're a selfish creature, incapable of giving into the demands of others."

In a flash, I reached into the cutlery cabinet, and without saying another word, I hurled a rather sharp and pointy kitchen knife at him...

Okaaaay, not at _**HIM**_ exactly, but it was precise enough to skim bits of his strawberry blonde locks. The kitchen utensil landed on the couch with a quiet plop.

"You say that about me again, and you're going to be given the butcher knife." I warned, breathing heavily as I slammed the cabinet shut. Oh my God – fuck my shitty life. I looked up to see Fang staring at me with an undecipherable expression on his face.

"What?" I snapped bitterly. Oh, dear – I think that came out wrong. "What do you want?" That came out even more piercing than necessary. Note to self: Suck up the bitchy attitude and apologize when the moment is right (Which is probably never, considering the fact that I have to deal with two freaking crazed psycho freaks right now who don't grant me the justice I deserve).

Fang only gave off a small smirk before shaking his head, spraying small droplets of water all over Gazzy. I sighed half-heartedly as I stared out the window, with my cheek resting on my hand. How in the world was this mess going to fix itself up?

I didn't have a clue about what my next step should be, and besides, with the paparazzi hot on my trail, I couldn't return home to Washington yet...

And I'm not going to deny the fact that I don't exactly want to return home because of...him. Him, obviously. God, males make our lives so much more complicated than necessary. I think I'm better off being asexual and reproducing by splitting in two.

Just before Fang seated himself into one of the dining chairs comfortably, I felt his hand brush against mine, squeezing my fingers sympathetically. I was about to open my mouth, prepared to fume and rant when...

"Don't let these things get to your head, Max." Translation? Iggy isn't worth your time, he's not worth the trouble, and most importantly, _I'm here for you._

Somehow – okay, seriously, I'm starting to question whether Fang is half-Muggle and half-wizard – his gentle words (And godly advice) did the job. It's miraculous how quickly I can recover from a squabble with just his voice present.

_And now we know the reason why Fang was also voted 'Most Wanted Boyfriend' in Seventeen._

Love.

Sometimes, it makes the world go round, and sometimes, it causes a huge meteorite to befall the earth. But in my case?

It makes my heart go pit-pat; beating even more rapidly than the time I bet that I could run six laps around the school track in less than five minutes – meaning I was racing against the school's top track and field long distance runner.

And if you're curious to know, let's just say that senior student went to Prom the next day with...her head in the clouds.

* * *

"Hold the _**fuck**_ still! God, what's the matter with you today? You never acted so rudely towards me before!" Cat exclaimed furiously as she tried to outline Ari's almond-shaped eye as carefully as she could.

Oh, God. Eye liner? Ari? Uh-uh. No way. Those two do not mix.

"I. Hate. Having. To. Wear. Make-up!" Ari retorted harshly, clamping onto Cat's arm and sinking his razor-sharp teeth (I kid, I kid...although not really, because I'm starting to see puncture wounds). In response, Cat whipped her hand away, yelping for animal control.

_Animal control?_ I snickered to myself, shaking my head. There was in no way that animal control could take on this creature. Maybe a few tranquillizers will do...or maybe not. Or perhaps we need a net. And I mean a big one.

"You were never this fussy when it came to make-up!" Cat cried, skipping around the room in search of multiple Band-Aids. "You always let me do whatever I wanted, and you'd keep your big mouth shut!"

"You don't know what L'Oreal's eyeliner can do to my skin! You know how much money I spent on skincare products?" Ari shot back, eyeing his rather pimply complexion with the tip of his finger.

"If you spent _**THIS**_ much," Cat screamed shrilly, making exaggerated movements with her arms. "Then why are you breaking out? Oily food? Not sleeping enough? Obviously not!" She gave off a hollow laugh as she whipped out her wallet from her half-ripped purse. "I saw that slut bag of a girlfriend, and all I have to say is that you're freaking **NUTS** to date someone of her calibre! I thought you would – "

"**WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME!**"

This screaming feud obviously has no chance of ending soon. Instead, I disappeared swiftly on stage of the Staples Center, where One Winged Angel's first concert was going to be held in just two weeks. Staring around the gigantic amphitheatre now, a pang of jealousy started to seep through me.

Gah. I detest this feeling.

Okay, I'm just going to come clean and admit it. I really treasured my coveted spot as lead vocalist for One Winged Angel, and I'm not going to lie: The roaring crowd, the dimly lit spotlights, singing and playing our hearts out...it's all of this and more that makes everything so surreal.

I guess you could say that I've learned to live the celebrity life, and as much as I hate having to deal with household drama, the hounding paparazzi that refuse to let us leave their vision and (Obviously) my whining, screaming, kicking and punching older brother with his fake-as-Lindsay-Lohan's-breasts girlfriend, I really enjoyed the friendships made and fostered, my fans and their undying passion for me (Or Ari), and...and...

And I think I've made my point. If I had the possibility, I would stay here with Dad for the rest of my life in these calm (Pft, who am I kidding? Hectic is more like it) surroundings.

"Totally unreal, isn't it?" Dad asked me as he read through the packed itinerary on his clipboard. "You never thought that you could be standing on the stage of the Staples Center, huh?"

I shrugged, completely wiping my brain clear of previous thoughts of envy for my twin brother (Who was still screeching for dear life). "I guess so. I can't say that I'm really enjoying this though..."

"Ah," Dad murmured, completely understanding my underlying meaning. I turned my head towards him in surprise, hardly daring to believe that he comprehends my English. "I totally understand what you mean."

"You **DO**?"

"Obviously," His voice dropping down to nothing more than a quiet whisper. I leaned in closer to hear the wisdom that he had for me.

"You're bored. Do you want to play with Fang's iTouch? I just discovered his password."

...Forget what I said. Dad never really enjoyed his English Literature class when he was studying in university.

"Um...okay?" It wasn't exactly the response I wanted from Dad, but...

"No, I'm just teasing you, Max," Dad said with a mischievous grin as he patted my cheek gently. "I totally understand how you're feeling right now."

"No, you don't," I muttered, looking down at my scuffed sneakers. Ugh, these sudden shots of jealousy seriously aren't helping me cope right now. I should be in that sparkling white tuxedo right now that Cat was trying to force over Ari's fat head, with matching polished shoes to go with.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," I began as I walked towards the edge, sitting down with my feet dangling in the air. "But I'm starting to feel really jealous of Ari."

"It's normal, sweetheart, and I'm proud of you."

"You are?" I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "You're proud of someone like me? Someone who doesn't dry the dishes until their butt gets walloped with broomsticks? Someone who is envious of their idiotic twin brother?" I sighed in despair.

"You're selfless enough to help me avoid unemployment." Dad explained kindly. "You didn't give up when things were completely out of your control, and as a raging hormonal young adult, you didn't go sleeping around with models."

I snorted. "Technically Dad, I don't do models." But I guess the important thing was that he got a laugh out of me anyway.

"You know what I mean," Dad smiled. "But Max, please don't beat yourself up. You're the best thing that has ever happened to this group. Look at how much Fang changed."

"For better or for worse? I'm telling you, he's become more perverted ever since he discovered I was a girl." I warned, shivering slightly. I'm never going to forget how he used his sly fox brain to lure me into his bed.

I REPEAT. HIS. KING-SIZED. SOFT. CUSHIONY. MATTRESS.

"See for yourself. He's right over there."

I turned my head, smiling softly as I watched the dark-haired leader, clad in a white t-shirt and dark jeans, direct his two fellow members through the itinerary. He pointed towards the drum kit and electronic guitar, signifying that they had to run through the solos of their songs from the first mini-album to the second full album.

Wow. What is this...I don't even...total self-confidence, full leadership ability, the care for his fellow members – these were the factors Fang seemed to lack just about a month of ago.

"I think he was born to be a leader, don't you?" I commented, resting my chin on my palm as I gazed at them intently.

"Wishful thinking, Max, wishful thinking." Dad stood up, ruffled my hair playfully (Speaking of which, I think I'm in desperate need of another haircut) and started to discuss the arena set-up with the stage crew.

I knew he was going to say that though, so it definitely didn't surprise me. _You're right, Dad. It is wishful thinking. In a way, I guess you could say that I...reformed him. Somehow, and in some way, I changed him._

_For good._

* * *

I was just on my way back to the dressing rooms to catch up with Cat when somebody pretty much knocked the wind out of me. I staggered backwards and lost balance, collapsing onto the floor.

"Watch where you're going!" I cried irritably.

"I'm so, so, sorry, I didn't mean to knock you over."

Wait a minute. That voice.

I looked up, finding myself staring into a pair of twinkling blue eyes that Gazzy always possessed whenever he was on the verge of asking rhetorical questions. I grinned, getting up to my feet and wrapping my arms around the tiny figure.

"Angel!"

"Max!" Angel greeted blissfully, her golden curls bouncing against her shoulder as she returned my hug. "I'm so glad to see that you're doing well. I haven't seen you in so long!"

I pulled back from the hug, but there was no mistaking it. My eyes widened in shock at the newly formed long gash on Angel's usually blemish-free skin, along with the bloodshot eyes that I misread just a couple of minutes ago.

And to add the fact that she just emerged from the bathroom with a slightly damp tissue in tow doesn't help.

"Angel! Angel! Angel!" I screeched, waving my arms frantically. "What happened to you?" God, if I find out who hurt my little guardian angel like this, I swear, I'm going to kick that jerk face's ass to the nearest black hole.

"It's n-nothing," Her lip was now started to tremble uncontrollably. Oh, hell – waterworks. The water dam is now unleashing its tears.

"What do you mean by 'nothing'! Angel, this is serious! Who did this to you?"

Under her breath, Angel's lips muttered an incoherent name. Something about air? Maybe wind? I can't tell. Hey, don't blame me! Between her hiccoughing sobs and sniffles and my impaired hearing, it's really impossible for me to hear.

"Angel, this is not the time for Earth, Wind and Fire. Tell me who did this to you." I said, pulling her close to my chest to comfort her.

"I-it was..."

"...Yeah? Sweetie, don't worry," I wrapped around her even tighter. I absolutely refuse to let her go. Who would dare injure somebody with such angelic features (I failed to mention her heart of gold; my bad) like her? "I'm always here for you."

"You can't do anything about it." She finally said. "And I know you're not going to do anything about it. It's just going to hurt more people than necessary." Angel glanced at me with sad eyes. "Let's just put an end to this, okay?"

"No way, Angel!" I exclaimed, waving my arms around in large, abnormal circles. Hell no, there was no way I was going to let this go. I was going to get to the bottom of this; if that's the last thing I'm going to do (Hopefully not my last thing...).

Sudden rushed footsteps were heard a few seconds later, and out popped the frighteningly terrifying, red-eyed, foul-smelling Ari, staring hysterically at the both of us. At the sight of Ari, however, Angel shuffled backwards towards me, her eyes widening in shock and fear.

Well, I wouldn't blame the poor thing. Ari can be the biggest, most horrendous wolf on the block. And trust me – as his female counterpart, I know.

But as I'm standing right here, something definitely wasn't right. For one, I thought Angel and Ari were supposed to be 'best friends for life and death'? Whatever happened to that? In fact, it's the complete opposite. It's better to call Angel the 'best main course for a territorial tiger' instead.

Number two: What is with the evil staring contest between the two?

Number three...

"YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, YOU FOUL, EVIL LITTLE COCKROACH! OTHERWISE, I'M GOING TO USE AVADA KEDAVRA ON YOU!"

Well.

Someone's been reading too much Harry Potter.

Ah, well, since we've entered the world of Hogwarts, I must as well play along with it.

"And I'm going to whip my phoenix tail-feathered wand out from my Gryffindor robes, and use the Cruciatus Curse on you!" I shot back, stomping towards Ari with an angry gleam in my eye. I pushed him with all the strength I could muster, and he staggered backwards, completely ignoring me (Obviously).

I watched the two ex-good friends engaged in an epic staring contest, with Ari's thick half-shaved eyebrows (The resulting product of when you get on Cat's bad side, I suppose) and Angel's feathery eyelashes.

The contrast is pure amusement to my eyes.

Still! That's not what we're talking about right now...

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" I asked furiously as I stepped backwards and wrapped my arms around trembling little Angel.

"You're asking me? Why don't you ask your little friend over there? You're such a fucking bitch, you...you...evil Bellatrix Lestrange in disguise!" In anger, he suddenly spat on the ground (Near my shoe, oh god, NOT NEAR MY SHOE – ON MY SHOE) and fumed back into the dressing rooms.

"Why is he in such a foul mood today?" I grumbled under my breath as I tried my best to scrape the revolting snot-green phlegm off of my sneakers.

"It's...it's my fault," Angel confessed as we seated ourselves on one of the dingy stairways leading up to the control panel of the Staples theatre. She brushed a few damp strands of hair away from her eyes and sighed.

"How could it be your fault?" Shit, how hard is it to get brother spit off of your shoes? HOW MUCH MORE SANITIZER DO I NEED! "And besides, your name totally matches your personality! I doubt anybody could hate you, especially since..." I looked up from my vile sneakers – it's time to burn these babies – and glanced at her. "You guys were best friends before his debut?"

"I guess you could say that," Angel replied, shaking her head sadly.

I bit my lip worriedly, and then reached over to give her a small pat on the shoulder. "Oh, c'mon, Angel, it's not that bad. I mean, look at me! He hasn't given me a proper greeting since yesterday morning, and I'm hardly suffering from depression at all!"

Unless...unless...unless...

According to one of Mom's 'Dating for Dimwits – How To Get The Man Of Your Dreams' guidebook, severe depression and repression only occurs and settles in when:

You discover that your betrothed is happily in a relationship/engaged/married.

Your betrothed refuses to listen to anything you say about the world of romance and love, thus forcing to be declared 'stupid'.

And from my close deductions, I can clearly say that...I'm not liking how this going.

Angel, noticing my slowly widening and drooling mouth, quickly clamped a hand over my lips to keep me from screaming in total utter shock (And disgust).

"Don't – say – anything!" She hissed in my ear as I squirmed my way out of her grasp.

"You can't be serious!" I groaned, shaking my head. "I never expected...god..." I couldn't even bring myself to say those vile words. It was just too, too painful.

I looked up and stared straight at her in the eye. "You deserve so much better than _**him**_, sweetie. And when in the world did you start falling for my brother!"

For a few moments, Angel started to look bashful. I know. Angel? Bashful? Puh-lease. I'm either kidding the pants off of you, or Angel's adrenal glands are producing just way too much adrenaline. "It's a very long story of unrequited romance and 'friend zone' complications, Max. I doubt you'd want to hear it."

"You're god damn right about that!" But my curiosity got the best of me anyway, so even if I wasn't interested in hearing her lengthy, tedious fairytale that has no happy ending (Yet), I still had some questions that needed answers.

Regarding her and Ari, of course.

Okay, no, make that just one question. I stared at the ceiling wall, holding my hands out as I wailed miserably. "Why? Just..._**why**_?" Why, oh, why did my sweet little Angel have to fall for somebody of his calibre? He doesn't even wash his bed sheets after a sweaty, hour-long make out session!

Trust me. I do the laundry whenever Dad's not around. I know.

"There is no 'why', Max," Angel explained gently, almost dreamily. "Love just...comes around when it's supposed to. See, love is like a jumbled jigsaw puzzle."

"Don't all puzzles come jumbled together?"

Angel ignored me. Typical. My rhetorical questions needn't answers.

"When you're so confused about everything, you can't seem to piece everything together," She continued. Holy god, I've never seen her more armoured. "But somehow, when you meet the right person, all of the pieces fall together to form one beautiful picture..."

She looked at me for an equally deep answer, which I (Unfortunately) did not possess.

"I...don't quite comprehend your analogy, but uh...I suppose it would be a good addition to a poetic piece," I murmured under my breath. "But it doesn't make any sense as to why he would suddenly get so ticked off at your sight. Aren't you guys' best friends?"

"A label that I want to get rid of..."

"And a sign that you're crazy in love with a psycho who tried to kick me out of the house yesterday."

"I was just inside the dressing rooms, trying to find you." Angel explained as she ran a hand through her hair. My ears suddenly perked up, and I glanced at her uncertainly.

Noticing my strange facial expression, she quickly added, "I thought you were still impersonating as your brother." Ah. That explains it.

"Carry on."

"When I saw Ari there – technically, it should've been you – I was just so worried about you." Angel continued. "I mean, there was the news about Fang's alleged new girlfriend in Washington, and so I thought that – "

"Angel," I interrupted abruptly. "That alleged new girlfriend **IS** me."

"So," She tilted her head to the side. "Are the two of you making kissy, fishy faces at each other now? I don't think I can stomach that too much!"

"No!" I waved my arms around frantically, trying to put a stop to her endless accusations. "We – are – NOT – dating! I repeat, NOT!" I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "So anyways, continue on."

"I thought that you might be a little bit upset, because I mean, I know about your complete adoration for Fang, so then when I saw you sitting by the make-up table, I went to go give you a hug and – " Angel's eyes started to well up with tears.

Oh, God – not this. Anything BUT this.

"Let me guess," I began, taking her hand in mine. "Ari's model girlfriend came in and shrieked at you about touching her man? And when you tried to explain the whole misunderstanding, she added fuel to the fire by acting like a complete blubbering idiot, hence Ari refused to listen to a single word that emitted from your mouth, thus resulting in this chaos."

"You pretty much got it down."

Yeah, I'm good.

"It's not your fault, Angel," I said after a few seconds. "Ari's freaking crazy these days. It's unbelievable." I don't think I should continually mention the fact that he tried to destroy the villa by throwing the biggest temper tantrum in the history of temper tantrums.

"Yeah, but what can I do about it? He's not going to listen to a word I'm going to say." She sighed.

"Just ignore him. Later on, he's going to realize it eventually." Her head snapped up after I finished. Uh oh. She's not expecting...right? Because when I said 'it', I meant 'how stupid and foolish he was to treat his best friend so horribly', not 'how he's actually madly in love with Angel'.

"And how will you make sure?"

Oh crud.

* * *

"Angel! There you are, sweetie!" Nudge exclaimed in exasperation after the two of us headed towards the stage. "Where were you? I was trying to find you! We need to leave now, and we'll be coming back tomorrow for rehearsal!" Angel only smirked at me as I gave her an encouraging push.

"What rehearsal?" I could literally hear my heart sing with glee.

"Didn't you know?" Ella asked huffily as she pried Iggy's fingers away from her waist with great force. "4EvAir is featured at One Winged Angel's concert as a guest star, and we're all performing duets again!"

"So that means..." Sing, my heart, sing! Sing yourself out!

"That means...the couples are going to be as followed," Dad cut in, flipping his clipboard to read the names. "Angel and Ari, Ella and Iggy, Nudge and Gazzy and...I'm presuming that Lissa's not going to be here for the concert because apparently, she's going to Paris for a spa treatment?"

I mentally gave myself a pat on the back. Excellent news! Probably the highlight of my day (Exemptions include waking up to the most cherished member of One Winged Angel with his arms snaked around your waist).

"Leave her be, Manager Jeb. She's useless anyways," Fang said, whipping his head around.

Correction: THIS definitely had to be the highlight of my day.

"Where's Ari?" He asked, scratching his head. "He should be out here right now, discussing his performance with Angel."

"Uh, Fang, I think you're blind. Isn't Ari standing...right...there?" Nudge gestured towards me, and I quickly gave her a curtsy.

"You're talking to the wrong person, but I'm highly delighted to finally make your acquaintance. I'm Maximum Ride, Ari's twin sister who has also been impersonating him for the past month and a half." I extended my hand forward.

Nudge gave off a rather small shriek, backing away slightly from my outreached arm, while Ella smiled feebly and shook it. "Did you figure something out beforehand?" I asked. Knowing Ella, she probably had her suspicions. She's a smart guy – the perfect complement for Iggy. The yin to his yang.

"No, but I did notice how easily applicable make-up is on your skin, and generally speaking, girls take better care of their skin than boys do." Damn, she's good.

"He's not in much of a mood to discuss anything with me at the moment," Angel muttered. "He's pissed off because I'm like a walking, talking nuclear bomb to his girlfriends' face."

"That boy is in dire need of a good scolding," Dad mumbled, placing his clipboard underneath his arm. "If he doesn't smarten up, I don't know what else I can do about him and his behaviour."

As if right on cue, Ari stepped out onto the stage, hesitating only slightly at the sight of Angel. Okay, I think my ears are seriously malfunctioning. Did he just call...?

"Did you just call Angel a 'stupid bitch'?" Nudge snapped viciously, shoving off the two inch stiletto heel off of her foot.

I glanced at her and shot her a thumbs-up. "You took the words straight from my mouth."

Ari only sneered at her. Classic Ari behaviour, I presume. "So what if I did? You don't know what type of trauma she's bringing to my girlfriend! She's shaking like there's no tomorrow!"

"The only reason she's shaking is because of the fact her legs contain no toned muscle at all. They're like freaking jelly strands." Fang explained matter-of-factly, stepping in front of Angel slightly. "Should I recommend some running exercises? I'm sure they'd have marvellous results on her."

Ari pointed a trembling finger at Angel. "She's nothing but trouble, and I know she's just going to be a total nuisance. You just wait and see!"

Okay. This is getting fucking insane. "Nudge, pass me your shoe please. I'll pay you back." Maybe.

With all of the strength I could, I chucked the sparkly heel into the air, and it hit the back of Ari's retreating head. My throw was absolutely marvellous, granting me several shouts of approval and applause.

"Ow!" was the only thing that he screamed out, but what surprised me was how he didn't even have to turn around and start having a huge spaz at us. I glanced at Dad, who only gripped my shoulder tightly.

"You okay?" I patted his hand reassuringly, but from the gloominess that was settling in, it seemed like Dad was really in a pickle this time.

"If I said yeah, I'd be lying, so no," Dad replied sadly. "I don't know what else I can do anymore. It's starting to become a nuisance."

_You're telling me, Dad, _I thought as I grimaced.

* * *

"Are you opening with 'Appear'? I thought it was going to be 'Promise'..." I said to Fang as Gazzy and Iggy, both sweat-drenched, headed towards the bathroom upstairs to take a shower.

So, if you haven't noticed, in almost any time at all, One Winged Angel's first concert was well underway. In fact, there was only one more day before the big show.

With all the preparations going on to make sure it was going to go smoothly and successfully, the band (Especially me) have been very fatigued. Aside from dealing with extra practices and vocal sessions, the occasional bitching and whining from Ari (No, it hasn't subsided yet), costume fittings and frequent bathroom breaks from too much detox drinking to make sure the guys were in tip top shape, I've been assigned the role of assistant vocal coach.

Yeah, I know – big break for me, right?

Not.

It's especially difficult since Fang's vocal chords haven't completely recovered yet. I mean, Fang obviously has the most gorgeous voice known to mankind (I'm exaggerating, but hey, what girl wouldn't swoon over a guy like him?), but don't forget that Ari is still granted the role of main vocalist.

Lucky, lucky me.

It's also super horrible working with someone when you're in a conflict with them. The rising tension, his urgency to get his hands around my neck and choke me to death and the self-control that I have managed to develop so well in the matter of two days...yep, I'm starting to get wrinkles now.

Oh yeah, and I forgot to mention the secret song-composing project that Angel and I have been working on for the past week. Did you know how hard it was to actually come up with lyrics that are both meaningful AND make sense?

Apparently, 'You suck, you suck, you suck, Ari, you son of a bitch, you, you, you' is something that won't really do too well on the sales charts on iTunes. We're improving though, so I guess that's progress on our composition skills, and to add that we finished recording the song in one of the unused recording studios...well...that's a marvellous feat for us amateurs, isn't it?

_Flashback_

"_When do you plan on giving it to him?" Max asked after replacing the headphones onto the stand. "I mean, you did record your little private message in it. I don't think you plan on playing this at the concert, do you? It's going to result in a riot." _

_Angel shrugged, but there was no denying the fact that her face was practically glowing as she retrieved the blank CD. "I don't count on that. I know better than to mess with their first concert." She looked up from me, her eyes suddenly twinkling. "Can you do one thing for me though?"_

"_Anything, Angel, anything."_

_She picked up the CD and handed it to Max. "What do you want me to do with this, Angel?"_

"_I..." She started to look away awkwardly, crossing her arms against her chest. "I'm actually not going to be there at One Winged Angel's concert."_

_Max's mouth widened in shock. "W-what do you mean you're not going!"_

_Angel shot her good friend a small heart-breaking smile. "You've seen how Ari has been treating me for the past few days. There are only four days until the concert, Max. Four days, only four freaking days left until the big performance and...there's no progress in our performance or our broken relationship."_

_Max chewed her bottom lip worriedly. "Angel..."_

"_I've already spoken to Manager Jeb about the issue, and after some consultation with President Marian, he let me off the hook." Angel continued, tucking a piece of hair over her ear._

"_Then where are you going to go?"_

_She only ignored Max's pushy question. Looking up at her, she grinned and pressed Max's hand on top of the CD. "Guard this with your life, and when the moment is right, please give it to Ari."_

_Max tilted her head, looking completely confused. "What is with your hidden message? Explanations are needed, Angel. Please be straight-forward with me."_

"_...I have to go."_

_And with that, Angel's retreating back was bombarded with threats of potential demolition of the CD. But obviously, Max wasn't that cold-hearted. She tucked the CD into her bag, with a head full of questions and not too many answers._

_End Flashback _

"We actually released 'Promise' on our first full album. 'Appear' was one of our most popular digital singles that we ever released, and it was even used as the main theme song for a well-liked soap opera." Fang explained, tying up one of his plugs.

I nodded thoughtfully, and then ran through the score quickly before I had a sixty-minute sit-down with Fang for a personal vocal session.

"The lyrics are so freaking cheesy, but I guess with your voice, you can make it sweeter, y'know what I'm saying?" I commented as I set the paper down onto the table once again.

"Is that so? Well, why don't you take a look at which genius composed the song."

_Composer: Nicholas 'Fang' Robertson_

_Lyricist: Nicholas 'Fang' Robertson_

"You wrote this?" I gapped incredulously. "I didn't know you had it in you! I thought you only played the guitar really well, and sang extremely well...whoa, dude, you're full of surprises aren't you?"

_Oh right, don't forget that he's a superb kisser – _

_**SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!**_

Fang started to chuckle at my inner turmoil. Yes, sadly, I do show my inner battles on the outside – know what I mean?

"On the outside, you're the strong mother type that refuses to take any of our crap when we do something wrong, but in all truthfulness; you're just as much of a dork as the rest of us."

Usually, this would get to me, but coming from him – could that be considered a compliment? I seriously didn't know.

I smiled anyway. "Is that a compliment?"

"If you want it to be," Fang replied airily before patting the chair beside him. I swear I felt my heart do a quick somersault before I seated myself.

It's moments like these that I always cherish the most. Almost after every single vocal session with the whole group, Fang had personally requested that I should help him 'practice' more. The real translation? I want Max, and I want her when it's just the two of us.

Okay, I'm lying. We do get some practice time squeezed in, but in those precious sixty minutes, both of us generally do something more.

...I know what you're thinking, and it's NOT that. Sick. Perverts. All of you.

...Fine. Us.

I'm not the biggest, most romantic and thoughtful girl out there, but I do tend to slip up and have my gushy moments. Don't get me wrong – I still hate romantic poems, but I'm slowly starting to accept the occasional flower.

Bolded word: Occasional, and they have to be simple too – something like forget-me-nots!

"I have a present for you, Max," Fang said, smirking slightly. I instantly froze in my seat. Don't tell me...it's the forget-me-nots! If he did, then this would be a crazy sense of déjà vu...

"It's not flowers, is it?" I asked faintly.

Fang snorted, almost giving off a hearty laugh. "You're kidding, right? I know the type of person that you are. You don't give flowers a second look, and you absolutely hate all types of jewellery."

It was my turn to smirk now. I leaned back in my chair, glancing at him. "You know most of my preferences. I'm impressed. Now, where did you get this information from? Who was your snitch?"

Fang shrugged, reaching into the pocket of jeans for a small leather box with a silk ribbon tied neatly over it. I looked at it intently, then back at him with a bemused expression on my face. "What is it?"

Hold. Up.

Small boxes...? A present? He couldn't...he wouldn't! I doubt it...although I seriously think I'm fighting a losing battle here.

"Hmm, you know what, now that I truly think about it, I don't think I should give it to you just yet," Fang finally said after a few moments of fumbling with the neatly-tied ribbon. I gave him an infuriated grimace.

"You're kidding." I stated dully.

"Nope." His tone was just as dead-pan as mine.

"Just give it to me, asshole!" I quickly reached over with my hand, but he only tucked it back safely into his pocket.

"You should be more grateful." Fang said tersely, waggling his finger at me. "I rarely grant girls gifts." Something in his smile tells me the present is going to be priceless...but I couldn't pin-point directly what it could be.

"Excellent alliteration, but – "

A sudden loud shriek sounded from upstairs. Fang and I both glanced at each other uneasily, and rushed outwards into the living room, doing our best to avoid the rare flecks of glass that weren't swept up with the broom yet.

"What's happening! Earthquake? Rattlesnakes! I KNEW IT! UNIDENTIFIED FLOATING OBLONGATED DISKS!" Gazzy exclaimed from the top floor, bursting from the steaming bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Get – dressed!" Iggy said forcefully, pushing Gazzy back into the bathroom. "I – still – need – to –shower!"

"MAXIMUM FUCKING RIDE, YOU...YOU...!" In a matter of moments, a red-faced Ari and Francesca (Who also had tears streaming down her eyes) emerged from my previous bedroom. Francesca's hair was matted in messy, greasy knots, with her usually pretty (And fake) face covered in tears.

"Now what did I fucking do?" I groaned, slapping my forehead. "I haven't even talked to Francesca for the past week!"

Ari bounded down the stairs in threes, and once he reached the main floor, he practically delivered a blow so strong that it knocked me off of my feet. I felt myself collide against the wall, and a strange metallic-tasting phlegm in the back of my throat indicated I was in terrible need of a bucket.

"Ari, stop your nonsense!" Dad screamed, wrapping his strong arms around Ari to keep him from charging towards me like a bull. "What happened?"

"She – " Believe it or not, Ari burst into a frenzy of tears. Weakening slightly, he collapsed onto the floor as he continued to wail. "She..."

"Yes?"

"...I...I had a miscarriage..." Francesca's small voice sounded from the top floor. Usually, I would hold some pity for the poor expecting mother, but in Francesca's case? I only shot her a 'What the hell' look.

"You're not fucking serious," I said, almost chuckling with glee. "You're _**NOT**_ fucking serious. You're telling me that you had a miscarriage...even though you aren't fucking pregnant in the first pl – "

"It's YOU! You ruined my whole picture-perfect family!" Ari screeched, trying his best to throw inaccurate punches at my stomach. "You were jealous! You were envious! You were envious of me! You wanted somebody to give you the attention like Francesca and I had for each other, but guess what? Nobody wants to because you're the most obnoxious bitch known to the world!" He gave off a small spluttering cough, and resumed back to staring at me with the most deathly glare possible.

"I am? I am?" I repeated in frustration. "You're the one who's being a dolt! You're the one who doesn't listen! You're the one who's being fucking rude to every single person, complaining and whining! Guess what? You may have the talent, but you don't have the right attitude in perspective to be successful in this business!"

Sure, you may be criticizing me for 'being too harsh' on him. Yeah, yeah, I know. He's a young adult, he makes mistakes, and he doesn't have enough experience. It's okay. Just forgive and forget. Everything is going to turn out to be colourful, full of rainbows and unicorns again. Well, do you know what I say to that?

Fuck that shit.

There was just so much anger bottled up inside the both of us, so I guess we could all declare that this was for the best. Our blow-up was going to happen eventually.

Ari's breath was still heavy by the time he got back onto his feet. Pointing at the doorway, he swallowed before opening his mouth to speak again. "Get out. Get out. Now."

Holy shit. Not this whole 'kicking out' game again.

Iggy and Gazzy remained silent, and suddenly, as I looked up at that, I felt my blood run icy cold. What were they going to say this time?

I didn't even have to guess twice. "Fine then." I didn't even know why. I wasn't as hurt as I was the first time. I guess it was because the two pyro twins actually demanded for me to leave, but this time, they chose to be the bystanders.

Did it mean that they were starting to believe me? Or were they just so utterly confused that they didn't whose side to pick?

I looked at Fang with a frown on my face. Instead of giving me a small reassuring nod, he avoided total eye contact with me.

Wait a minute – this didn't seem to make any sense at all. With Gazzy and Iggy choosing to ignore the situation, it's clear what Fang's choice would be...right?

It seemed like he was...was...extremely disappointed in himself. But what about? Could it be...that he was let down by Ari's rashness? That couldn't be it – he's seen how he's conducted himself loads of times...

Dad's voice suddenly interrupted the nervousness between the two of us. "Kids, we need to go for a quick video recording to be played at for tomorrow's concert." I looked at Dad, slightly hopeful, but instead, he just put a finger to his lips.

I couldn't say anything right now. Everything was just too out of control. And besides...with that look concealed in Dad's eyes, do I seriously want to be here still?

After brushing some dust off of Ari's clothes, everyone gathered at the foot of the stairs, completely silent. "When I get back from the recording, I'm expecting an empty house. You're not welcome here anymore. You're leaving, and that's final."

And with that being said, the front door closed behind me with a slam.

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

Do you know how painful it is to watch the person you love and care for the most falls to pieces? I know you're probably cussing the shit out of me right now for acting so indifferent towards this entire issue, but what did you expect me to say?

Don't accuse me though. I actually did believe Max when she claimed that Francesca had started the whole ordeal. I mean, I know the type of person she is, but she's not cruel enough to beat the crap out of someone, especially when that someone is her beloved twin brother's 'pregnant' girlfriend.

But that being said, what was with that cruel laugh of hers? I highly doubt she's the type to spread salt on somebody's wound...right?

...Ugh, you know what? I'm going to try to draw a veil over this. There simply isn't enough time for me to deal with all of this, let alone right now.

"Fang, you alright? You've been silent ever since we stepped out onto the main highway," Gazzy asked worriedly from the rear-view mirror. I only shot him a grin, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

"How could she do this to you? I don't know...I don't know what to say, Francesca. I wish I could apologize on behalf of her, but I know it's not going to do this any good." Fuck. He looked so pitiful and desperate; even I started to feel sympathetic for the poor kid.

"It's...it's alright, Ari, it's my fault. I didn't take care of our baby. I was a careless mother." She hung her head in shame, and I only twisted my body so I could avoid staring at their little yuck fest in the back.

After half an hour of driving, we finally made it to the recording studio. But before I could enter with the rest of the band, Manager Jeb held me back. "I need to talk to you."

I knew what he was going to discuss with me, but in all seriousness, I didn't want to dwell on it right now. "Can't we just get it over with, and we can talk about this back at the villa? This afternoon has been going so shitty."

"No. It's just a quick word. It's just one last thing, alright?"

Before I was even ready to start listening, he already whispered the final warning into my ear and walked away, leaving me to a list of about a hundred questions.

"Watch out for Francesca."

* * *

"And so, remember our rules, beloved fans!" Gazzy exclaimed for the umpteenth time as enthusiastically as he could, clapping his hands wildly. "If you want to have an enjoyable time with us for the next few hours, be sure to obey our regulations! All will be well, I promise!" Poor kid looked so worn out; and so were we.

Oh, I wasn't tired from this. Heck, I only had a few lines to say, and they weren't too difficult on the memorization part. What bothered me the most, however, was Max...and Manager Jeb's puzzling warning about Ari's very emotional girlfriend.

I couldn't wait to return home. I couldn't wait to get out of this super itchy suit and see Max...but that being said, I knew that conversations and interrogations were needed.

A sudden bump against my arm made me lose my train of thought. I found myself staring at a can of Diet Pepsi instead. "You need it, dude. You look so fatigued." Iggy commented, giving off a lopsided grin.

I waved it away, though I was touched by his offer. "I'm fine."

"You okay? You've been looking so preoccupied ever since we got here." He seated himself beside me as we watched the director scold Gazzy for 'not smiling enough'. Not smiling enough my ass – he's generally a happy kid, until he stepped into this dingy trash pit of a recording studio.

"...Don't you think things are happening way too...?" I didn't even have to finish my question. Iggy knew exactly what I was going to say.

"Things are blowing out of proportion, and it's separating everybody apart. Relationships are falling to pieces; trust is now replaced with suspicion...call me crazy and psychotic, Fang, but every single piece of drama that has occurred seems to be...perfectly timed."

My ears perked up as I glanced at his thoughtful expression. "What do you mean?"

"Well, let's think about this for a second," Iggy continued, taking a sip from his can before setting it down onto the table. "Ever since Francesca got here, she's given us nothing but trouble. Not only did she successfully convince her beau that his twin sister is mentally unstable, she convinced all of us."

"And your point is...?"

"I think we've fallen for Francesca's innocence, so to speak." He stated almost inaudibly.

I suddenly felt anger start to rise underneath my skin. "Yet at the same time, you were among the fair few who wanted to kick Max out of the villa when we discovered their little scrimmage. Whose side are you on anyway?"

Iggy shot me a glare with annoyance to match. "I'm trying to look at this objectively, alright?"

"Well, considering how hurt Max looked a few weeks ago, I wouldn't think so."

"Fine, fine, think whatever you want. I'm out of here." Iggy declared, raising his hands in the air. Instead, he kicked the chair a few feet away and walked (More like stomped) away to make conversation with Manager Jeb.

_That didn't help much. In fact, it's just made me – _

Hold on a second.

_I think we've fallen for Francesca's innocence, so to speak. _

That light bulb wasn't working completely yet, but somehow, I had the hunch I was getting close to cracking what mysteries our masked (And possible) femme de fatale concealed. It was flickering though...it was flickering.

* * *

"That was the WORST, the WORST video recording session I've ever had!" Gazzy groaned tiredly as we made our way up the wooden stairs and through the front door.

"You're telling me," Iggy replied, sinking deep onto the leather love seat. "And who knew that there was going to be a rainstorm tonight? Now, we're soaking wet and I have to take another shower!"

"Dibs!"

"I CALLED IT FIRST!"

The two pyro twins engaged in a furious race up the stairs, with Iggy claiming victory. I only smirked to myself as I walked up to the second floor carefully, being aware of the puddles left behind. Now that we were home, I could finally have my seclusion and peace – as well as a small questioning meeting with Max.

But as soon as I opened my bedroom door, I was surprised to find...

Nothing.

The blanket that Max had used last night on the couch was folded neatly and resting atop my dresser, the scented shampoos and conditioners that I had bought for her own use all vanished from the bathroom counter, standing upright in the drawer underneath the sink...and...

The missing bag of feminine pads was raising eyebrows too.

Just as I was about to exit my bedroom to inform Manager Jeb, a hand-written note was taped onto the back of my door. I could recognize that messy, untidy scrawl any day. But for some reason, a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach told me I didn't want to read it.

No.

She couldn't have.

_Dear Fang,_

I don't believe it.

_I never thought that I would have to write a Dear Jenny letter, but I guess I'm the first one. So, you're probably wondering where I am, right? By the time you read this, I've already left. Now, now! You're not the type to make rash decisions, so before you send out a search party, please know that I'm a full grown young adult with a wad of cash in my wallet, hence I'm actually fine on my own. I'm not going to tell you where I am, of course, but I can assure you that I'm safe. _

"Safe? Nowhere is safe, Max, especially for you," I murmured under my breath, feeling my head grow dizzier and dizzier by the minute.

_Fang, as you read this, you're probably thinking that I'm the stupidest idiot alive. And you're right, I am. How idiotic was I...to masquerade as a boy and venture out into the Entertainment industry like that? And not only did I allow several people to discover that I was indeed a female, I got drugged by date rape (TWICE), got to the hospital via a bike and a carrying basket, and was lured into your bed, and finally I'm leaving without a warning. But I can happily admit that I'm a blissful, stupid idiot. _

_I got to meet a whole bunch of people that once cared for me (I'm sure they still do, but uh...I'm not taking any chances here), I got to eat caviar and fancy schmancy cupcakes, I got to pick up the piano again but most importantly? I think it's the fact that I got to meet you._

_Yes, you, Fang, you can stop re-reading this sentence over and over again. _

_I'm not the type to write mushy and sappy love poems, but there is one cheesy thing that I want to say. Thank-you. Thank-you so, so much for guiding me when I was still here. Time and time again, you've done so much for me, and I couldn't be any more grateful._

_If I could, I would stay here for the rest of my life. I'm happy here, and I love being around you. I do. _

"If you were, then why did you leave...?"

_But I can't anymore. The reason being partly because I have a very airheaded mother that still needs my attention (Even though she's gleefully married now), and the other...mostly because I'm ninety-nine percent convinced most of the household hates my guts. I just can't deal with it anymore. It's too, too painful and hard on everyone, especially you and Dad._

_In order for everyone to be satisfied, I'll back off so you can live better. _

_I know that somehow, somewhere our lives are going to cross somehow. God, I continually repeat my words, but that's not the main point right now. Either at a concert or via an album signing, I don't know, but as of this moment, I'm closing the masquerading chapter in my life. _

_Ah – I swore to myself that I wouldn't cry while I write this. See that little blotched area? Yep, those are my tears. _

_Please take care of yourself, Fang, and inform everyone that I wish them the best tomorrow. I'm going to miss you (And the rest of the gang) a lot._

_Max_

I felt the paper slip from my fingers numbly. I didn't even need to tell Manager Jeb about what happened, because reading the morbid expression on my face; he also knew that Max was gone.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," I mumbled after a few moments of silence. "I can't do anything about it. Once she's gone..."

She's gone.

...What the fuck. She's backing off so I can live better? Does she seriously believe that running away is going to do me good? How am I going to live better when she's not here? Max...you...you're...

You're such a heart-breaking bitch.

* * *

**DUNDUNDUNDUNNNN! And so, this concludes 20.1! I hope that this 25 ish paged Chapter sufficed! C: Once again, thank-you so, so much for all of your amazing comments and reviews. Ahh, I can't believe this story is coming to an end so quickly! I will miss it...a lot, and I will miss you guys a lot too! (But these words are for the Epilogue, of course XP) As always, constructive criticism, feedback and reviews are LOVE! C:**

**I will be updating as soon as I can! I promise this time! I will definitely finish this before school starts, and then...I don't know what's next for me! XD I'll determine what I'm going to do with Fanfiction later. In the meantime, enjoy the sunshine and the rest of your summer before school starts! I know I'm going to be relaxing. A lot. (And writing, most definitely! XDD) **

**See you guys soooon! Take care! C:**

**Luff,**

**Sam C:**


	21. Chapter 21

**HELLO MY AWESOME READERS! It's Sam C: here, finally updating after about two weeks! Seriously, I have to apologize for making you wait for the final conclusion to My Fair Lady. I could've updated earlier! But this Chapter was a little bit...hmm...difficult for me to write? But I'm updating now, and I hope you guys enjoy this twenty-seven paged Chapter! Phew! XD  
**

**Even though this is only the final part of the conclusion, I'd just like to say thank you to every single person that has reviewed, favourited, alerted or just read my story in general! I seriously, seriously cherish every single comment I get, and all the emails telling me I have new subscribers and what not. Really, I'm just...really touched that you guys have stuck with this story for so long! C: As soon as I finish the Epilogue, you guys will all receive shout outs, because thanks to you, My Fair Lady has reached 391 (I think? XD) reviews and I couldn't be more happy!**

**Sooo, enough of my chit chat, let the finale begin!**

**Fang - That was quick.  
Sam C: - Eh, not exactly. It took me at least seventeen days.  
Max - MUCH better than your previous Chapter, which took you like ZOMG, oh, I don't know, a YEAR TO UPDATE?  
Sam :C - HEEEEEEEEY! It was NOT a year! It was a month! I was busy!  
Angel - And you're even busier now.  
Sam :CC - ANGEL, are you on MY side or THEIR side?  
Angel - Neither. I'm neutral!  
Gazzy - ANGEL! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH MY SPIDERMAN BOXERS! THEY CAN'T BE DRIED IN THE DRYER!  
Nudge - GOOD GOD, SHUT UP! Buy yourself a new pair! Macy's must have some...that's a great place to shop.  
Iggy - Too much What Not To Wear makes you go crazy. Then, you'll end up with wrinkles like HER.  
Nudge - EXCUSE ME!  
Total - On with the story! Go, go, GO!**

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

It's only been a few hours, but it already feels like eternity. I don't know about you, but when you lose someone who's _this_ important to you (Cue the humongous hand gesture), the repression, the depression and all related nouns…

It hits hard. The worst part? It hits the place where it hurts the most – my heart.

When I think about it, I'm seriously considering whether I'm crazy, or it's the horrible fact that I finally found that one great love that are usually part of the cliché endings of romance endings, except in my case, I let her slip away from my grasp.

I mean, it's not like I haven't met women before. Hell, before Max, there were plenty of easy-going girls that practically threw themselves at me. I could even give you a little black book of phone numbers called and deleted – and I kept them for Iggy's sake, not because I look at it as a trophy for getting the most text messages in the time span of two days.

So now, I'm asking myself a single question: What exactly is the difference between those skimpy-dressed girls at the club and Max, a male-masquerading, microphone-hogging, heart-breaking bitch who left me without a good-bye?

The answer is crystal clear.

They didn't have the chocolate-brown eyes that were often glazed with a piercing stare when we weren't concentrating enough.

They didn't have the (Now) shoulder length sun-streaked hair Max would often tie up into a small ponytail. Oh no, it was far from that. Atrocious even – to the point of a putrid lime green mixed in with a little bit of silver? I mean, who did they think they were? Those crazed stylists from the Hunger Games?

They didn't have her personality.

So simply put, they weren't Max.

Usually, it'd be easy for me to put a few paragraphs into the text box, but tonight, there was something different. Every single time I tried to type a single sentence, I froze up as I continually read what I wrote, and then pressed the 'Backspace' key to make sure it was wiped completely clean.

Blank. Empty.

Just like her expression when I averted my gaze to avoid total eye contact with her when Ari had his bitchy fuss about Francesca's very sudden (And according to the two destined parents-to-be 'devastating') miscarriage.

I rarely use my blog to rant about any aspect of my personal life, but things are different now; things are changing. Idols weren't perfect people, as much as the tabloid magazines always try to emphasize our ever astounding lives. We had our own problems, and I had a problem of my own that I needed to get off my chest.

_Even though you may think I was, I wasn't avoiding you at all. I caught a glimpse of your expression today. It was as blank as a stone carving. There were no tears, no sobbing, no crying – it was just…set. It was just there. You showed no indifference towards the way we were all acting towards you._

_I saw you look at me. For a split second, the indifference was gone, replaced with sudden shock and surprise, and then it was back to the statuesque facial expression. _

_I know that you probably found my way of behaving so, so…stupid. _

_It wasn't the best way to act, because in the end, you've left me now, thinking that everything is finished once and for all. But you know what?_

_Your departure sucked everything out of me. You know when Professor Lupin in Harry Potter was describing Sirius Black's eventual faith about the Dementor's Kiss? _

_You've performed it on me, except without sucking out my entire soul and leaving me as this empty shell; it's even worse, because you've taken only my happiness, leaving me as a sad, lonely and stupid idiot. _

_I didn't want you to leave at all. I wanted to come back home to find you still here. I simply could not believe that you would turn your back against me, literally. _

_Do you know how much your departure has driven me to the verge of breaking down? I wish I could drop every single responsibility right now. I wish I could just burst out of this place so I could find you right now. _

_But I can't._

_I have duties to fulfill. I have places to go to, people to meet and greet and please and events that I have to attend no matter what. _

_I don't even know why I'm writing this post, but I need to talk to someone, somehow. My blog just seemed to be the ideal candidate, since pretty much nobody else is able to understand the pain that is continually building up right now._

_I'm lying though. I'm partly writing this because I need to vent, partly writing this because I'm an attention whore (I'm kidding – see? I'm still sane enough to crack morbidly terrible jokes), and mostly writing this because I'm hoping you'll be able to read this and feel guilty. _

_Well, not necessarily guilt – I'm angry, but I'm not so furious to the point that I want to throw rotten eggs at your head. I care about you. I worry about you. I'm…_

Do I really want to write that and publish it for the world to see? Backspace, backspace, backspace…

_I'm…_

Those three keys are pressed once again.

_I'm in l_

I'm almost there. I'm almost finished.

_I'm in love with_

Click, click, click. Instead of finishing up what I originally planned to write, I typed something else.

_We never got to the point of being in a relationship, but I can gladly admit that, in some point in our lives, we loved each other. But with that being said, it also feels as if we broke up today._

I didn't have to lie about anything. Things like romance and love are seen and felt, and I was sure that we both felt it.

_But now, we're never going to have the chance to love again, but I guess that your future is what you want, not what other people want. Obviously, I want you here…with me, so badly, but I know it's utterly impossible. _

_A rather satisfying wish to fulfill, but I know you're not going to be there. _

_Please know that you've made me a much happier person than I probably was about a year ago. It's your presence that makes me so much stronger now, both mentally and musically. _

_But now isn't the time to reminiscence on past memories. If you're able to move on like this, then I should too. I'm going to try to erase this once and for all; I'm going to wipe the slate clean…making it as blank as the white stainless curtains in my room. _

Deep down, however, I knew that it was literally impossible. How could you ask me to forget Max? It's an impossible task, and will forever be an impossible task.

I guess the sudden-rant-turned-sick-love-confession post did one good deed – the burden isn't off my chest yet, but significant weight has dropped off.

But at the same time, I felt my heart drop several feet deeper in my chest, because even with this weblog, Max is never going to come back.

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

God, I never knew how difficult it could be to purchase a single return flight plane ticket back to Washington. FYI: Do not ever use a computer that is etched with pizza stains.

"How could you give me the latest flight at eleven thirty at night? LAX, you're just trying to screw me over." I grumbled under my breath as I jabbed at Gazzy's laptop that was lagging oh-so-slowly-like-a-tortoise violently, but after numerous pokes, prods and clicks with the portable mouse, the transaction was done and over with, so I breathed a sigh of relief.

Make that a heavy sigh of relief.

It's not all fun and joy for me either. Even though I managed to escape the villa with unsuspecting eyes prying around for any sights of Fang's 'mystery girlfriend' (The hounding paparazzi gave up and resumed their normal business of stalking Paris Hilton), I still had a small burden weighing down on me.

I'm a terrible, terrible liar so forget what I just said. I take it back. It's not a small burden (What the fuck, of course not); it's a huge one.

You can call me a coward all you want, because I won't care. You can lecture me on how I'm being irresponsible by abandoning every single person I care about (Minus that psychotic sister-in-law of mine), but I won't even give you the time of day.

I guess you could say that I've learned to act completely apathetic. It's a skill that you might want to have in your personal arsenal, I'm just sayin'.

But…

Okay, I'm lying about one thing. Since I've had the bad luck to deal with an idiotic brother whose stupidity bothers me to the extent of committing deathly suicide, I've grown to become totally unresponsive to his crap.

Let's look at this logically: I don't think stuffing common sense into his Montessori brain is going to do me any good, and besides, he's not going to listen to a single word I say, so the best thing to do is just pretend he doesn't exist.

Which inevitably proves impossible, due to the fact that his nightly moans and groans drive me sick to my stomach.

However, just because I've grown immune towards him, this fact doesn't stay true for everything else. I mean, there's always Dad to worry about when his wrinkles show up even more so, Angel and her sudden unknown attraction for my brother, Gazzy, sometimes Iggy (Depending on what the situation was) and…

Yeah, you guessed it.

Thinking about him already brings a frown to my face, and it's mostly because of how he lost his fire. I still remember that day like it was yesterday (Well, technically speaking it happened about three weeks ago, but you get my drift).

I don't think I could ever forget his stoic facial expression that suddenly turned into anger and resistance to punch Ari right in the gut when he saw how the numerous cuts and bruises emblazoned all over my arm.

I don't think I could forget the warm feeling of thankfulness when he stood his ground, protecting me from getting kicked out of the house.

So I guess what I'm trying to say (I mean state) is that I don't think I could ever forget that guy of mine, and for once I actually agree with my heart.

I totally agree that it hurts to leave the one person that you've finally learned to love, and to leave him with nothing but a note.

I also agree that thinking and longing for that same person seriously sucks like crap.

Let's just put it this way: Everything about it is fucking horrible.

But what can I do about it anyway? Do you think it's great seeing the villa blow up to smithereens with Ari's endless wails of 'Why am I still there' and Fang revolting against the rest of the group (Excluding Dad) by constantly declaring 'She's innocent and therefore, she should be given the right to stay here'?

Seriously, it's like watching two Pokémon of the same type battle against each other, with both KO'ed at the last minute and set straight by the referee (AKA Dad).

A sudden beep at the computer knocked me back into reality. I glanced at the small icon on my computer, indicating that I had one new e-mail. "Probably one of those stupid advertisements, telling me to buy Viagra or something…"

Just as I was about to check, I had to stifle a yawn. What? I'm a girl. I get tired and I need rest. My fingers inched across the desk and slammed the lid shut on the laptop, putting it to sleep. I'll check tomorrow…maybe…

And hmm…maybe my eyes were deceiving me, but the tag line was something among the lines like…"_Fang's Blog – One New Weblog Post_"…

…Nah.

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

"Eat." I'll admit that I do have a rather unhealthy (And secretive) obsession for Manager Jeb's homemade waffles, but that lump in my throat from waking up and seeing no heaving lump lying on the sofa is making it impossible for me to drink, much less swallow.

But thank God, I can still decline offers of food.

"No."

"You need lots of crabs in order to perform well! Eat this stinking pancake before I shove it down your throat with a chain saw!"

I raised a suspicious eyebrow at the totally ecstatic Gazzy, who was waving an oozy, sticky waffle in front of my face with a fork, unknowingly spraying flecks of maple syrup across my face.

Oh, yeah. Today was looking great.

"Gazzy, the correct name is carbs, short for carbohydrates, not crabs." Iggy corrected, flinging his finished apple core into the garbage can. "Do you honestly think Fang would have pubic lice?"

Gazzy started to stroke his non-existent beard thoughtfully with his fingers. "Well, not Fang, that's for sure." Then, his voice lowered into nothing more but a mere whisper. "Ari and Francesca? Possibly. Did you even HEAR them last night?"

Iggy shook his head. "Don't remind me."

"And it's even worse for me because MY room is right next to theirs!" Gazzy narrowed his eyes evilly at Manager Jeb, who was wielding a super hot frying pan. "It's your fault for not asking for soundproof walls!"

"That's it. No more sugar for you today, mister. You've had your quota for today, and I'm not going to let you crash and burn on stage beside Nudge." Manager Jeb rumbled, completely annoyed as he tried to frisk the jar of maple syrup away from Gazzy.

"No! It's – mine!"

"Give it to me before I whack you in the head with this frying pan!"

Even though I was feeling quite crappy this morning, I couldn't help but grin. Come on! It's funny! Although…violence will get Manager Jeb nowhere in life…should I say something?

…

Nah.

A hand suddenly clasped itself onto my shoulder, but I didn't even need to think twice about who else it could be. "Iggy."

Mm, forget it. My slight upturn in mood has now totally vanished. If you don't remember, then I'll kindly remind you that yesterday, Iggy had a change of thought that Max wasn't psychotic, and that Francesca was part of this huge scam to drive her away.

"Hey dude, can we talk for a bit?"

I scoffed, but I nodded for the briefest moment. "Make it quick. We've got to get to Staples Center in half an hour for last-minute rehearsals."

"It won't take more than a second."

Before I knew it, the two of us were on the patio once again. I guess you could say that it was 'our place' – the place where Max had told Iggy about her secret identity, the place where she shared kisses with each of us, and finally, the place where Iggy had his heart broken for the first time in his life.

"What's up?" I asked after a few moments of silence. "Do you have something to say?"

Iggy looked up at me, his eyes drooping sadly. "I know that what I say now might not be relevant to you, but it is. And I know that she's gone now – "

I felt my hand clench and unclench itself into a fist. God, look at me. Even the mere mentioning of Max brings me heartaches. _Fang, you've got to get a grip…for now._

"But I just wanted to apologize to you, and Max."

My head snapped up at him. "Did I hear you correctly? You want to apologize to me, and Max?" Max, I could totally understand, but me? Why me? "Why are you apologizing to me? You never did me any wrong."

Well, except for yesterday…but…

"My behaviour towards the both of you has been…more than hostile." He began slowly, sinking into the garden swing, making it rock slightly. "I'm going to come clean now, Fang. Believe it or not, during my recovery time from my surgery, I fell in love with Max."

_Uh, thanks for stating the noticeable…Captain Obvious. _I didn't say anything though. "Go on." I wanted to hear the rest.

"And y'know, it was the first time I ever truly…loved someone, but it was clear that this love was totally unrequited. She, herself, had fallen heads over heels for you." Instead of locking gazes with Iggy, I took part in an intense staring contest with my slippers.

"I took this blow pretty…badly, I guess. For at least the past month and a half, I've been treating you and Max, but mostly Max, very horribly, and now I can't help but feel guilty that Max's departure is also my doing."

_No shit, man._ I looked up at him, trying my very best to put a stoic poker face on, but it's way too difficult. "Well, I'm glad you're taking some responsibility now. Is that all?" I know growing irritable is not going to help this supposedly heartfelt conversation, but I'm sick to my stomach right now.

Maybe it's the waffle? Or perhaps it is Max's tear-stricken face that continually haunts the living daylights out of me when I'm daydreaming? I wouldn't know for sure.

"…Do you think it's too late to get her back?" He stood up, glancing at me for approval. "Nothing is ever impossible, and I have a feeling that she's going to turn up today. I just have this hunch."

Oh, God, who does this guy think he is?

At his idiotic suggestion, I couldn't help but laugh bleakly. It was something that I, myself, also really wanted to happen…but…

"What are you, five?" My eyes narrowed swiftly before I had enough self-control to resume my poker face. "Max is gone forever, and there is nothing else we can do about it. I'm pleased you finally gathered your courage to apologize, but it's too late. I'm finally managing to convince myself that she's gone…"

Before leaving the patio, I whirled around to give him one last piece of advice.

"Maybe you should too."

"You do realize that she's technically not gone forever." Iggy muttered just as I turned to leave for the kitchen.

I could've ignored him, but instead, his words made my feet stick to the ground. "You know that. You're just too cowardly to admit it right now. Max is still here, and will always be."

* * *

"I _**TOLD**_ you not to overdose on the maple syrup! Aw, man, Manager Jeb's going to kill you for the mess you made!" Iggy scolded lightly, although the mischievous glint in his eyes spoke otherwise.

Gazzy, who was still rubbing his chest, grinned cheekily. Wow, even after regurgitating this afternoon's light lunch (His was obviously deemed heavy), he can still have a smile on his face. How does he do it? "Better out than in! That's what I always say!"

Even though there was still about two hours until our show started, we were still needed at the Staples Center for last-minute costume fittings, last-minute rehearsals with our vocal coaches, last-minute tune-ups with the fireworks and lights and…

Pretty much anything last-minute was in the bag.

Everything seemed to go according to plan too, which…just didn't seem right for me. I mean, okay, let's just face facts here: You've seen how chaotic things can be, even for us idol singers. But today…it was just too peaceful.

When all five of us (Ari's slightly traumatized girlfriend included) clambered into the car and arrived at the back parking lot, it seemed surreal that none of us got engaged in any heated arguments on the way here.

But the thing that has got me freaked out the most is Ari's sudden change in behaviour. We've all seen his erratic, rude attitude before, and (Unfortunately for me) witnessed it far too many times in a month to count.

When costume fitting was occurring, Ari's opening tuxedo (In that chic sparkly white fabric that he seriously doesn't deserve to wear) had a major rip in the sleeve. It wasn't nothing too serious that Cat couldn't fix by calling a professional seamstress in.

And of course, you can already guess that Ari would've had some major fit about how nobody seems to take his belongings seriously, but you're totally wrong.

Yes, I know what you're thinking. Ari? Silent? You must be crazy.

He never shrieked when Iggy accidentally splashed water in his face during the car ride (Don't ask for the details; you don't need to know), and when Cat "accidentally" – and trust me, it was not accidental – tweezed one too many eyebrow hairs from his face, he didn't even make any snide remarks about how unprofessional and immature Cat was.

Okay, so maybe you're thinking that I'm just going crazy and am suffering from some pre-concert jitters and is being super observant and sensitive to every single thing, but you've seen how he can act.

I'm not trying to curse our performance so somebody ends up dead on the dance floor, but that gut-wrenching feeling is here, and it's not giving me any pleasant feelings.

"Ari, here's the water that you wanted! I just bought it from the vending machine downstairs." Francesca said, handing Ari a water bottle while giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. My eyes narrowed slightly at the unsealed cap. It looks like it's already been opened…

"…Thanks…" Ari gave off a weak smile before uncapping the bottle and taking a quick drink. Wow, okay, so I'm not going crazy. There IS something wrong with him. You know this is going to be an off day when he doesn't tackle Franny against the wall and engage in a furious, 'passionate' battle of tonsil hockey.

I shook my head, feeling completely wiped out. God, the concert hasn't even started and I already feel like drifting off to sleep.

Well, a nap can't hurt. It'll replenish my energy so I'll be ready to go. Off to dreamland, I suppose.

* * *

Believe it or not, two hours can pass by just like that. Why can't time pass by just as quick when we're awake? Meh, either way…

By the time I woke up (More like startled by the loud commotion from Gazzy), I was feeling slightly better, but my brain is freaking driving me insane, since everywhere I go, I always stumble onto something that reminds me of Max…

And of course, it totally sucks.

For example, her polar opposite brother (Who still isn't complaining – huge surprise there), the clothes that should be on her instead of HIM, her curt-looking father, re-checking his clipboard for anything missed…need I say more?

_Well, if Fate doesn't want you here, then I guess it doesn't. _

Painful message to get through, but hey – nobody said the truth was going to be all sweet and wonderful like cotton candy (FYI, I hate it).

I got up from the comfort of the lounge chair and entered the rather cramped circle for one final briefing before picking up our instruments and heading onto stage. Bee tee dubs, if you ever have to huddle up with three obnoxious teenagers who are still undergoing puberty, hold your breath. The scent is nasty.

"Well, this is it, guys! All that planning, all those extra rehearsals…and now you're going for the real thing!" Manager Jeb exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "Excited?"

"To the point that you want to hurl? Yep…" Gazzy mumbled under his breath.

Iggy only rolled his eyes. "Dude! The maple syrup was officially confiscated a few hours ago, and you're still complaining about your upset stomach?"

Gazzy glared at Iggy, but shook his head vigorously. I tilted my head to the side, looking thoughtful. Knowing Gazzy, the only way he could feel like vomiting would be if he OD'd on anything sugary that is within his arms' reach…or explanation Y: I really don't know what the band is coming down with.

Is this when we need a doctor…? Cause we seriously don't have the time.

"No, it's not that! Obviously, I puked out everything just now. It's…" He looked around nervously, and then started to fiddle with his fingers. Oh, God, no. Gazzy can't be all thumbs right now – he has a freaking guitar solo in our first performance.

"Then what? Go ahead, Gazzy, please tell us." It's obvious there's no patience in Manager Jeb's voice, but I guess it's only because we're going on in about three and a half minutes.

"It's the feeling that someone is missing…someone…y'know…someone REALLY important to us. So in an analogy regarding arts and crafts, that person would be the Super Glue that binds us together."

Ah.

"You've got that feeling too, huh?" Iggy asked, giving off a weak smile. "I didn't realize it before, but now that you mentioned it, I totally get what you mean."

Manager Jeb obviously got the message too, because at the mere mention of 'Super Glue', his eyes drooped sadly for a few brief seconds. "C'mon, guys! Look lively out there! This is your first concert, with many more to come in the future! You don't want to disappoint your fans with mediocre reviews, right?"

You have no idea how much I just want to crawl back into bed. It's not the fact that I'm sleepy, but because Gazzy's right – and truth be told, Gazzy is almost NEVER right. I hate to admit it, but Max was our support system.

Who was the one that ran to the closest pharmacy to buy a box of grape-flavoured Tylenol for Gazzy when he had a fever running at highs of one hundred and three degrees?

Who was the one that chased after Iggy to make sure he was safe when none of us supported his idea of corneal transplants?

_...And who was the one that I fell in love with?_

Just as we were about to stack fists as a last-minute gesture…

"_**Holy shit!**_"

The shriek was overwhelmingly loud, but I didn't even need to scold Gazzy twice. We all noticed it at the same time.

White soapy foam was starting to froth in Ari's mouth. In a matter of moments, he tripped over his own two feet and collapsed, completely blacked out, into Manager Jeb's frantic arms. The suds were slowly dripping down his chin and onto the floor, and if I wasn't mistaken, that red pigmentation is NOT food colouring…

Oh, shit, we're in a real crisis.

"What the fuck is this! What the fucking hell is this!" Manager Jeb screamed as he heaved Ari onto the sofa. "Ari, what's wrong with you? Are you okay? Speak to me! Speak to me now!"

"Not only that, but what are we going to open up with? We can't just announce the cancellation of our concert! Not only is it going to mean a huge financial loss on the Prez's part, but we're going to go down the drain as well!" Iggy cried, pacing the floor frantically as he messed his neatly styled hair with his hands.

"We can't do this without Ari! I mean, I kind of hate him too, but he's still part of the team, and we need to work together!" Gazzy was on the verge of crying now, and as leader, I was having a pretty hard time adjusting to all of the commotion.

But there's no time to dawdle anymore. The lights are up, the announcer is rehearsing his lines for the last time, and…

"You've got to go on stage without him." Manager Jeb said, panting heavily. His face was covered in shiny sweat as he looked me in the eyes. For some reason, I just hated the determination that was set in his gaze. "Fang, I know you can do this. The show must go on. While you guys open and get the crowd fired up, we'll figure out a way to fix this mess."

Somehow, I had a funny feeling that it would take more than three minutes and fifty seconds to think up a sure-fire plan.

"What are we going to open up with though!" Gazzy piped up. "It's been at least a whole year since he sang 'Appear', and I seriously doubt he'll magically remember the lyrics!"

Another dilemma to question – but truth be told, I was glad Gazzy said something. It's only been recently since I've studied the sheet music again, so there was no way I could pull it off.

"Then you guys will open up with 'I Hope'." Manager Jeb said firmly, putting an end to the discussion as he began to push us towards the dark alley and onto the platform that would eventually rise us up to the center stage. "You're not backing down from this show, and neither are the rest of the stage crew. We're determined to make this show great, and as long as you concentrate and don't let your mind wander, you'll be fine."

"…And what's going to happen if Ari doesn't get well after the song?" Iggy asked, gazing at the paling figure on the sofa, still vomiting white foam.

"We'll just need to put our improvisation skills to the test, and switch up the entire program."

"You're on, kids!" The stage manager announced, popping his head into the backstage area. "Everyone set?"

I sucked in a deep breath, and stared back at him. "Ready as we'll ever be."

* * *

As soon as the platform raised us up to the main stage, the roar was deafening. From my view, every single seat was occupied with a glowing light stick of their favourite member, banners, posters and glow-in-the-dark signs were waving around every few feet and photographs were snapped with digital cameras just a few feet from us.

Compared to a performance on shows like Music Central, those were just amateur stuff. This is the real thing.

Dear fingers, hands, feet, body: I AM BEGGING ON MY KNEES RIGHT NOW. PLEASE DO NOT FAIL ME. I have a low tolerance for messing up on stage and acting like a total idiot.

"Hey everyone. We're so glad that you guys could come to our concert today, and we're also super stoked to be able to perform for the next few hours! Ready to have a blast?" My lines are just too cheesy, but our fan base just eats it up completely. "Hit it, Iggy!"

As of now, nobody seemed to have noticed the absence of Ari's stage presence, but I knew it was only a matter of time before they discovered something was wrong. I'm hoping everything just goes right…please, God, make sure that my vocal chords are ready for this song...

And please make sure Ari is alright.

The harsh-sounding chords from Gazzy sounded, as did the steady crashes from the cymbals from behind me. As soon as everything fell silent, I opened my mouth, ready to sing.

"A day and a month have passed, yet I still did not hear from you. My tears fall, my heart burns, this isn't it, it's only temporary…" A sudden rustle and pause of waving the light sticks with the beat from the crowd isn't giving me a good sign.

"This isn't it, this isn't it, this isn't it…please don't cheer me up…the empty space you left only get larger…"

I know Ari and I have had our rather personal differences, but the song speaks so true to all of us right now. Although I'm just doing my duty to fulfill his job as main vocalist, the space is visually occupied…but my heart isn't into it.

No. I have to be. I need to be strong. Max would be scolding me to be strong right now.

"I see you again, and you are my love, I see you one hundred times, and I'm still your love…you were my match made in Heaven, but you took the wrong path…that's all…" Here come the rather high notes. I'm hoping my voice is still able to hold out and manage for the remaining two minutes.

_Don't think any negative thoughts, Fang! _I could literally hear Max screaming at me right now. _You still need to be strong for the group! Stay tough out there, otherwise, how are you going to survive Gazzy's nauseous fumes? _

"Even if I'm born again, I only want you, even if I love again, I only want you…"

_Way to go, Fang. You're doing great._

"You will come back; you will come back…because without you, there is no me…"

* * *

When 'Promise' finally came to a close, Iggy and I escaped backstage while Gazzy put on a mini guitar solo. Through our microphones, we could hear the instructions that were given out by Manager Jeb. After our group performance with the four title tracks from our few albums, Nudge would be making her guest appearance and the two would engage in a quick 'battle of the wits' before singing two duets.

"I think that went fairly well, don't you? Great job at aiming the high notes, by the way. It looks like your vocal chords are back in business." Iggy gave me a soft smirk as we both raced down the hall, dress shirts completely drenched in sweat from the sweltering heat.

I returned the smirk. Hearing a compliment seriously perks up your mood when your day turns out looking foul. "I could say the same for your rap in 'I Hope'. You've improved. Been practicing?"

He didn't have any time to respond, however, because as soon as we entered the air-conditioned backstage room, the atmosphere turned tense once more.

Manager Jeb only gave us a grim smile as we arrived. Iggy started to fan himself with a nearby book. "How's Ari?"

"…We called for an ambulance, and they immediately rushed him to the hospital. Nobody knows what happened, except it might be food poisoning…we're not too sure…" Manager Jeb wiped sweat from his forehead and shook his head disappointedly. "How could this happen?"

"Speaking of Ari…anybody know where Francesca is? Was she here when Ari started to vomit like that girl from The Exorcist?" I asked, scanning the nearby area for her. I looked up, and every single person shrugged.

"Nobody's going to pay attention to some attention whore, Fang," Iggy laughed bleakly. "Even if she outwardly demands it, no one's going to give her shit because we're all too busy to care."

My head snapped up. Wait a minute.

_Nobody's going to pay attention to some attention whore…_

…_Because we're all too busy to care…_

"I need to talk to Francesca straightaway." I stated, pushing my way towards the changing rooms.

"Fang! What the hell? One of our members get poisoned, and you don't give a shit, but you're going off to flirt with – " Iggy scolded, tugging onto the sleeve of my shirt.

"I'm not flirting, idiot!" I snapped, cutting him off. "I have this nagging suspicion that Francesca was the one who poisoned Ari!"

"You're being ridiculous…seriously, don't be stupid!" In the sudden ruckus, Iggy pushed me in the chest and onto the floor, where I collided with the nearby trash can. The crash was deafeningly loud, and with so much garbage, a few pieces of unwanted debris rolled out, hitting my foot.

The first thing that caught my eye was the empty plastic water bottle. The second was the bright-yellow packet.

I didn't even need to look twice. "Rat poison…of course…" I muttered through gritted teeth, feeling anger starting to bubble in the pit of my stomach. It wasn't just anger, however. It was a mix of emotions – confusion, anger, unhappiness, annoyance but mostly stupidity.

Why didn't I see it before?

"Bravo, bravo…" A cocky female voice drawled from the darkest corner of the empty change room, with slow, steady claps following it. I stood up abruptly, with Iggy cowering behind me slightly.

"Who's there? Show yourself." I ordered.

And to my surprise, that figure stepped out from the shadows, clad in jeans and that low-cut tank top. It was no mistake. My suspicions were now confirmed true.

"F-Francesca!" Iggy screeched, placing a hand over his mouth. "H-how is that possible? How…I mean, why? Why would you do something like this and harm your boyfriend! Are you trying to sabotage us or something?"

Francesca smirked as she tossed her hair, making it wave slightly. "Why? You're asking me why? It's been my plan all along. It was all part of this sick game that I was playing to make sure my 'boyfriend' got as close to the brink of death as possible."

Her words seriously made me want to barf. I started to feel nauseous as I tripped over my feet and had to use the nearby wooden desk for support. Nobody wants to hear about this type of stuff, especially when the person that had to suffer was someone you know.

"I'm sure you loved him." I began after a moment of silence.

Francesca's head never budged, but from the corner of my eye, I noticed that her jaw twitched.

"If you never loved him, you wouldn't have followed him to Paris in the first place." I said slowly, cracking my knuckles. "If you never loved him, you wouldn't have put up with his idiotic act for so long…and if you never loved him, you wouldn't have just used a quarter of the rat poison packet."

"W-wait a second! So, so, are you saying that Francesca was never pregnant? And that Max was telling the truth the whole time? I mean, I'm no longer pissed off or anything, but – " Iggy was totally flustered at this point, but since I am the powerful Fang (Yes, I'm kidding), I was able to tone him out.

"Shut your crap. I'm not here to listen to anything. I never loved him. I only used his emotions, and at his most vulnerable point, I ripped him apart." Her words tried to sound forceful, but there was definitely some pain in there…as if she was compelled to do this. "I did my job, and now I'm escaping." Francesca gave a quick wave before disappearing behind the change room door.

"What the shit? Is she trying to get caught or something? Cause if I were her, I'd definitely head for the emergency exit and then plan my escape route instead. Just sayin'…" Iggy commented under his breath. I hurriedly kicked the door open, but to my surprise, I found it completely empty…except for the fact that the ventilation chute was screwed open.

"What the fuck is this! Not only is she a good actress, but she's superb with mechanics too! Hmm…looks like catching her is going to be tougher than it looks. Seriously, what the shit is with models being so overly talented these days?" Iggy banged his fist against the wall angrily, but it wasn't the time to let our emotions take control.

As if right on cue, a sweet, melodic voice called from behind us. "Iggy? Fang? Is it you guys?"

Iggy whirled around almost immediately, his eyes glinting happily, despite the fact that we had a femme de fatale crawling around in our ventilation system.

"Ella, perfect timing!" I said, almost relieved. "Iggy, take Ella with you and go catch that despicable model before she gets to the control panel. I have a feeling that's her final destination."

Iggy nodded immediately and grabbed Ella by the wrist, who was totally confused about the entire situation (But on the bright side, she got to hold hands with Iggy: A total win-win situation).

When I walked back into the lounge, I glanced quickly at Manager Jeb, who was trying his best to calm down (But was failing terribly). "Are you alright, Manager Jeb? You're not looking too well…"

"Of course not," He snapped, losing all of his self control. "My son just got poisoned by his model-girlfriend-turned-sudden-assassin, the concert is turning into a total mess, the schedule's now fucked up, the band that I'm currently managing has now lost their main vocalist and by now, probably every fan out there is questioning why, I'm on the verge of breaking down and…oh, wait, one more thing…"

His eyes were now swelling up with tears.

"I have no fucking idea of my daughter's whereabouts."

Just when our hairstylist was about to comfort Manager Jeb, an idea started to form in my head. "I've…I've got the solution." From all of the horrible things that have been happening, this is the only thing that can offer all of us any comfort and reassurance.

It was crazy, but it wasn't impossible either. We just needed achievable and doable.

Everybody's head turned towards me. "What is it? Fang, hurry up and say it, please! We need any solutions as soon as possible!"

"…Max." I muttered. "She's the answer." I turned my attention towards Manager Jeb. "Find her, and you've got your solution to every single problem."

"B-but wait a second, Fang! Then…then…where are YOU going off to! You can't just abandon us at our time of need!" Manager Jeb called after he noticed I was beginning to jog (Make that sprint) towards the emergency exit. "You're up next after Gazzy and Nudge are finished!"

"I'll be back really soon, I promise." I replied, flipping out my cell phone from my pocket. "I just need to…double check something."

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

"Hey, would you look at that! It's the Staples Center!" The taxi driver commented under his breath as he pointed toward the gleaming, towering building beside us. I looked up from the palms of my hands, sucking in a deep breath before exhaling again.

_Thank-you for the wonderful observation, now if you don't mind…could you please just get me to the LAX on time, and then I'd thank-you even more for your kindness and generosity._

"One Winged Angel's supposed to have their concert today, aren't they?" Either the driver has some weird sort of attachment towards me, or he's just trying to make an awkward conversation so we can talk.

_Oh, right, I forgot one thing. Please shut up._

"Yeah." That's my secret weapon right there: Curt, one-worded answers always does the trick. Okay, I'm not trying to be rude, but I'm naturally irritable. Besides, Mother Nature dropped by a couple of days ago, and I'm dealing with the worst cramps possible.

"My daughter's a _**HUGE**_ fan of One Winged Angel, especially of their newest member, Ari! Apparently to her, he's really talented and sometimes makes a fool of himself on camera and on radio interviews, but I guess that's just what makes him more lovable."

I couldn't help but smirk. Of course – how could I forget my first performance where I rescued Fang from the falling spotlight, or when I told the paparazzi and most of my anti-fans to put a sock on my brute masculinity?

At that moment, the taxi came to a sudden halt. I was tossed forwards, but thank God for the seatbelt. Otherwise, I'd be dealing with a pretty bad concussion (And more loss of blood). "What the hell? What happened?" I asked, looking up.

"That dude just fucking J-Walked across the street! If I wasn't that afraid of going to jail, I'd run him over! I absolutely _**HATE**_ J-walkers because they always think they're the shit or something!"

Personally, I'd also agree with him (Since back in Washington, I would always drive at least ninety to ninety miles per hour on a regular basis, even in playground zones and those kids just don't know that a car is not a synonym for 'metallic horse'), but this was no ordinary j-walker who was half-sprinting, half-jogging across the slightly congested street. That person was…

"Dad!" I shrieked almost too loudly.

I quickly rolled down the window, and watched continually as car after car honked at him for J-Walking, but he didn't even stop to apologize. In fact, it looked like he was in a rush with all that sweat running down his face and his soaked top.

I whipped out my wallet and tossed some money into the shotgun seat while releasing the seatbelt. "Hey, uh, thanks for half of the ride. You can keep the change!"

"Yo, this is illegal! We can't stop here!" The driver was now receiving honks from the excessively impatient drivers behind him, but I opened the passenger door anyway. If I did get severely injured while trying to catch up with Dad, I'll be his first witness to say that the accident was completely my fault.

"Uh, of course we can? You know, I know…nobody else knows." I flung an extra one hundred dollar bill into the seat. "Use it to buy your daughter a One Winged Angel poster or t-shirt or something." I hurried towards the trunk and knocked on the metal anxiously, which sprang open in a matter of seconds.

After heaving my suitcase and sports bag out, I wheeled it across the suddenly empty street (God really knows how to play those games with me), trying my hardest to catch up with Dad and his speedy legs. "Dad! Dad! Dad, stop running right now!"

At the sound of my voice, he whirled around and stared, open-mouthed at me. "M-Max?" Finally realizing that it was me, Dad sprinted towards me and…

_**SLAP!**_

I staggered backwards from the sudden strike on the face. Okay, WTF is this? I narrowed my eyes slightly at him. "Dad? What the hell is wrong with you!"

"What's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong!" He scolded furiously, picking up my belongings and swinging the sports bag behind his back. Oh, God, I've never seen him this angry before. This new image he's producing is certainly…frightful. "You, young lady, you ran off without a good reason! Do you realize how worried all of us were? How could you be so irresponsible?"

I rolled my eyes after brushing dust and debris off of my jeans. "Dad, I wasn't being irresponsible. I mean, I've got money, I didn't leave _**WITHOUT**_ a purpose and I did leave a note!" Wow, my explanation is weak. Might as well just give in to the punishment now…

"You clearly were, and don't think you're getting away from this scot-free!" But his mouth looked less thin anyway as he pulled me into an awkward one-armed hug.

"What's wrong, though…? I'm asking rather seriously this time because you look so…so…" I winced as he started to wave his arms in the air. Gosh, the manly essences of my father…yep, definitely turns all of the ladies off. "Sweaty, filthy and tired – "

"I'm not in the mood for a lecture right now." Dad mumbled oh-too-pleasantly. "But I'm glad I found you! I was afraid I might have to jog through Downtown Los Angeles. Come along and follow me. I'll explain the rest of the way."

"The rest of the way?" I repeated, feeling slightly suspicious. My feet weren't going anywhere until he told me where we were headed off to. "To where?"

"The Staples Center, of course. Where else?"

Ah, shit.

The doorway was only a few steps away, but I wasn't budging. Or, more specifically, my feet were refusing to move any closer.

"Come _**ON**_, Max!" Dad groaned in exasperation as he, for the umpteenth time, tried to push my statuesque figure into the open, air-conditioned room. It is highly appealing, of course, especially in this twenty-seven degree weather, but…

No, just no. I can't just barge into the dressing room like that! Apparently, my father refuses to believe that I am incapable of performing anymore (Which is half true), and mostly because the remaining residents at the household – Dad excluded – probably hate my guts right now for abandoning them.

I mean, sure, I'm glad my idiotic twin brother and the rest of the members have finally realized that the psychotic girlfriend/bitch has a dark side, but it doesn't necessarily include the fact that they have forgiven me, right?

Take Iggy as an example. Is he still loathing me for being the first girl to officially break his heart?

"Dad, please! I can't go in there! There are – you know – dangerous obstructions inside that can really injure me!" Oh, dear God, another flimsy excuse to make into the "World Book of Most Stupid Excuses Ever Known to Mankind".

"Max!" Dad cried. "I know why you're refusing to go in there, and please trust me; everything is going to be fine. They've all forgotten about the past, and have forgiven you. In fact, according to the guilt that's plastered on Iggy's face just about half an hour ago, it shows that he's truly apologetic for the things he has done!"

I shook my head vigorously. "You just don't understand the things that I also have to go through! I'm sorry, Dad, but everything is just…way…too…awkward and tense between all four of us. I mean, I just left the villa yesterday, and then I show up – "

A sudden force with the strength of a fire truck rammed straight into both the sides of my body. I yelped slightly, but it wasn't long before I realized whose head had slightly wavy blonde hair, and who's skin was as dark as chocolate.

Yeah, okay, so maybe not these two.

"MAX! YOU'RE BACK! YOU'RE FINALLY BACK!" Gazzy squealed in excitement as I waddled forward with him clinging onto me like he was glued on with Super Glue.

Ah, I forgot how cute he could be (Except for the moments when his dietary habits seem to kick in).

"Gazzy? Nudge? What are you guys doing out here?" I questioned as I finally pried Gazzy's fingers off of my jacket sleeve.

"Greeting you, of course! What else?" Nudge added in cheekily, wrapping an arm around Gazzy's shoulders. "Now, come on! Everybody's waiting for you inside, and Cat seriously can't wait until she puts eyeliner on you again."

I looked up at Dad, who only grinned. _Now are you willing to believe me? _He mouthed to me as Gazzy and Nudge continued to jump around (Nudge especially in her four inch killers) like complete maniacs. They were just perfect for each other…seriously.

I shrugged, but deep down, I was glowing with happiness. _Yeah, I guess._

* * *

Back inside the dressing room, however, it was yet another story to tell.

To my surprise, Fang wasn't there. Neither was Iggy or Ella, but I could care less for the time being. Okay, so I might've been a little bit disappointed (Make that really), but at the same time, I couldn't hide my glee when Cat rushed up to me and gave me the biggest hug possible.

Yes, I never managed to drop by and say hi to my beloved stylist the last time I went to the Staples Center for practices and rehearsals. Sue me if you must.

"Oh, I still can't believe that you've been a girl for this entire time!" She repeated for the hundredth time in a row as she reached over the counter top for the bottle of moisturizer. Yes, I was counting. "No wonder you've always had such perfectly smooth skin! And then when that stupid twin brother of yours came around, I was shocked by the amount of acne he had on his face! I mean, what type of facial scrub does he use? Creams for butt rashes?"

Needless to say, that girl was zipping through sentences as fast as Gazzy unravelling the wrappers from his cherished lollipops. But truth be told, I wasn't listening. Okay, that's a lie: I was partly listening, partly day-dreaming, but mostly wondering where the hell Mister TDL could be.

Just as Cat was putting the finishing touches onto my face, Dad stormed in with his head full of fire, scaring the crap out of all four of us (Gazzy, Nudge, Cat and I).

"What's up, Manager Jeb? You look like you could regular T-Rex!" Gazzy commented as he started to throw popcorn into the air and catch it with his mouth.

I only sighed. "You really should consider becoming a performing seal in your next life. You've got the talent."

"Of course I look like a regular T-Rex! Fang went on stage when it was supposed to be Iggy and Ella's duets!" Dad exclaimed in frustration, hurling his keys against the table. "Do you want to take a look at how he's doing right now?" After some intense rummaging for the remote control, he flicked on the plasma screen television.

Gazzy only shot him an irritated look. "Manager Jeb, calm down! You're having a mental breakdown! Didn't we agree to have Fang perform after us? You told both Iggy and I three times in the span of one minute!"

And now, appearing on screen was a very visible Fang, clad with his side-swept dark hair that meshed attractively with the white shirt and pants.

Suddenly, all of that free-flowing confidence I had inside me started to seep away as if I were a broken sand timer. Seeing him on stage made me anxious, but most importantly, intimidated. I didn't even know why I was feeling this way – was it because I was afraid of something?

Maybe…just maybe…afraid of his reaction?

Feeling sick to my stomach, I kicked open the door and rushed outside to get a breath of fresh air, but it was no use. The nauseous feeling was still there, and it wasn't going away for awhile. And get this, for no reason whatsoever, my eyes started to well up with tears. Ugh, God…

"Max! You've got to come back inside and see this! Come on!" Nudge cried, scuttling outside and yanking my arm to pull me back into the room.

"Hey everyone, it's uh…Fang here." The sound of his voice is doing me no good at all. Now, I'm on the verge of puking. "So…I know you're probably wondering why I'm here, and where the hell Ari went right?" He gave off a nervous laugh, but quickly recovered. "Don't worry about a single thing. He's here."

The crowd went ballistic once they heard Fang's confirmation that Ari (No, make that me) was okay and ready to perform, but as soon as the noise died down, there was another rush of murmurs from the sea of lights and then it was back to the shrill screams.

"Now, now! Calm down, everyone," Fang said, chuckling slightly as he made his way to the center of the stage. The daisies at his feet were overflowing by the second, but he didn't even seem to be wary of the obstruction that could cause him a fatal concussion.

Which, of course, would be very, very bad, indeed.

"I know what you guys are talking about. It's about my most recent blog post, isn't it?" He asked. "You guys are probably worried about me…like, why in the world would I write something that deep, anyway? It's not my style, I don't usually do mushy…and I don't do romance."

Gazzy looked sceptical. "Wait a sec, romance? What the heck is this guy talking about? I've never heard about any blog before…and I've never even read a single post from him either!"

Dad snorted. "You're telling me. I guess this is just his way of communicating and connecting with his fans."

_Not necessarily, Dad, you won't believe the amount of curses he uses in his online rants sometimes…_I chewed my lower lip nervously as Fang opened his mouth to speak again.

"But um…" Fang started to scratch the back of his head, not knowing how to start. "I guess what I'm trying to say is…that I have a confession to make."

My ears perked up as I glanced at the screen.

"Everything that I wrote on my blog last night is not bullshit." And we interrupt his story with shrieks and harsh cussing. It figures, though. He is still deemed one of the most betrothed idol singers in America.

"Roughly about a month and a half ago," He seated himself against the edge of the rising platform, where white smoke was now emitting to create a cloudy effect. Staples Center really puts in the money and effort…but we're not talking about that right now.

"I met a girl. To make it easier to refer to, let's just call her Max for the time being." Fang said, almost in a daze. Or maybe it's because the smoke is getting into his eyes, I don't know. I wasn't even infuriated with the fact that he used my name out in public. Strange, I know.

"But you know what? She wasn't your typical 'female'," Fang continued, pinching his fingers. "She was…in most cases when I interacted with her…very tomboyish. Her hair was cut stylishly short…stylish, but still boyish." I flipped my now shoulder-length hair. I'll agree with him though: During the beginning of my vacation, my most charming point was the boyish cut.

"She could literally punch the crap out of someone if that time came, and let's just say…she's definitely not the perfect housewife. I mean, how often is it that you fail to make a cake with mix straight from the box?" At this comment, Gazzy ribbed me hard. I only shot him a dangerous 'You'll be sorry' death glare before returning back to the screen.

"Yet, even with all of these flaws, the more I got to interact and communicate with her, the more I started to focus on her personality…and um, it just shone through. She might not make the best brownies, but she doesn't need to make pastries and deliver them to the homeless to be considered 'sweet'."

I only sat there, completely stunned at his comments. Don't judge me – I know you'd feel the same way!

"Here's a few examples of the things Max did. She helped me…reunite with my originally estranged family. She…took care of a fellow member, more specifically Iggy, when he underwent his corneal transplant…and God; there are so many more things I can list about her." Fang's mouth started to thin into an obvious frown.

"But then, I guess you can say that tragedy kind of struck the two of us. Her older brother returned after a month and a half's hiatus…along with the bitchiest of the bitches, her sibling's super hot model girlfriend." At that, I seriously had to give off a laugh. _Way to describe her, Fang._

"When they returned, everything just literally fell apart. Because the hot girlfriend was deemed 'pregnant' when she seriously was still on her period, the two accused her of doing things that I know, for sure, she would never dream of doing in her entire life." Fang continued. I'm telling you right now: It's a freaky sight to see motionless flashing lights and hear nothing but Fang tell his story.

"She did her best to put a smile on her face every single day for the rest of us, helping all three of us train to make sure our vocals were in excellent condition before our concert, but she's no Iron Man. She has her breaking point, and it struck her just last night." By this point, I, myself, was also frowning. I never considered myself to have any breaking points, ever. Even way back in high school when I was ridiculed for going out with something that was like a foot shorter than me, I brushed them off by kicking their asses on the field (Okay, not necessarily that way, but you know what I mean).

But right now, his sentence seems to hold true. I'm made of flesh, bone, blood and tissue (And plenty more bodily fluids), but tin or other metals. I didn't exactly have my breaking point last night. In fact, it broke the moment Ari delivered that blow yesterday afternoon.

"…And when we returned home from shooting the short film," God, even his voice sounded sad. When I glanced at Nudge, I swear I saw her sniffling. "All she left me was a note, saying that she needs to back out of my life so I can live better. What nonsense is that? Now THAT, fans, is what I would call crappy excuses."

"So now, all I'm asking for is this. Max, if you're out there, are you listening to my confession right now? Did you hear what I just said? If you didn't, it's okay, because here's the most important part." Fang sucked in a deep breath before standing up again.

Dad squeezed my shoulder comfortingly. "See how much he's changed because of you?"

"I love you."

It's these three simple words that made every single fan in that auditorium shed tears of sadness – but it wasn't because that their impossible dream of dating their idol was officially demolished. It was because of Fang's story…or I guess it's easier to call it our story.

Usually, I'd call this stuff cheesy and lame. I mean, I've emphasized this before, but I am definitely NOT a romantic person. Whenever I see people proposing at the 'perfect place', or celebrate 'month-sarys', I'd deem it stupid.

But now, it's like a rush of emotions have flooded into the very pit of my stomach, but instead of making me nauseous, it made me feel…affectionate and loved. Does that make sense? Have you ever felt the same way?

Fang reached into the back of his pocket and lifted out a piece of paper. "I'm not too excellent with song-writing, but here's a small excerpt from a song that I wrote for her. Um…I was going to give it to her as a present, but I guess there's no point anymore." So it was carefully folded sheet music that was in the box!

Geez, and I thought it was a ring. Still, I'm touched at the thought.

"It's every singers' dream to write a song for that special person they care about, and I'm glad I managed to do so. I'd like to share this with everyone, and I also hope that you find that one perfect man or woman in your life."

The low chords from the piano sounded steadily, as well as the occasional strums provided by acoustic guitar. Fang placed the microphone near his mouth to sing. I was still so shaken up from that confession that I didn't even notice anything else anymore. Even with Nudge's intense sobbing, I toned that out because all I could see was him.

Love makes the world go round? I say love makes everyone go crazy.

"One man loves you…he loves you with all his heart, he follows you around like a shadow everyday…that man cries as he laughs…" Fang's face was so full of emotion; my heart seemed to slice itself in half when I looked at the pain in his eyes.

"Just how much…how much more do I have to gaze at you alone? This love that came like the wind, this love that acts like a beggar…if I continue this way, will you love me too? Just come a little nearer…a little more…" _It won't be any longer, Fang. It won't be._

"If I take a step towards you, you take two steps back. I, who loves you, is next to you even now…yet now I still cry…" I stood up from my seat and hurried towards the dark alley. I didn't even want to listen to the rest of the song anymore, but it wasn't because I detested it, no.

On the contrary, I loved it, but I'd rather experience this sensation live than through a television screen.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Dad screamed at the top of his lungs, waving his arms for my attention. "You can't go out there yet! Max! Max! Are you listening to me?"

I didn't even care anymore. He was up there. He, the one that I wanted, the one that I know I love. I wasn't going to let him go this time.

As soon as I walked into the dim lighting of the stage (Clearly hidden from view), Fang was still singing. "Do you know that man is me? Are you doing this to me because you know it? You probably don't know…because you're a fool."

I raised my own microphone at the pause when all traces of music disappeared, except for the raising screams from One Winged Angel's fans. "Fang, are you sure about that? Do you really think that I'm that stupid?"

A sudden thud indicated that Fang had dropped his microphone, but he quickly recovered, I'm sure. "Max? Are you here…?"

I took in a deep breath but ascending up the stairs that eventually made its way to the top of the stage. With the spotlight finding its way towards me, I gave the audience a quick bow, who also responded with shrill gasps. "Hey everyone, it's me. Um…my name is Max, and I am…indeed…the girl that Fang was talking about just now."

The raised platform descended quickly, and Fang, staring woebegone at me with widened eyes, walked closer and closer towards me.

"I heard everything, Fang…" I muttered as our faces were only inches apart. His surprised expression soon became replaced with affection. "And I want you to know that…" I stood onto my tip toes and brushed my lips against his cheek. "I feel the same – "

"**FANG! LOOK OUT!**" An ear-splitting screechy voice screamed from above.

_**BANG!**_

"Duck and cover, Max!" He screamed. Without realizing it, Fang had wrapped his arms around me and whirled around. Eventually, the two of us had crashed onto the floor, and it was only then when I realized what had happened.

We were shot at.

"Oh, God, thank-you, Fang! Are you al – "

But my voice seemed to have disappeared. I couldn't even manage a single sentence, because as soon as my hand left his back to caress his cheek, I almost screamed.

My shaking palms and fingers were now coated in a thick sheen of blood.

He never said he'd take a bullet for me. I never intended for him to do so.

But he just did, and he could be dying, right here, right now, because of me. God, Fang, why are you this...

Why do you need to play hero games at a time like this?

* * *

**SO! What do you think is going to happen to Fang now! I'm actually quite happy to say that this officially concludes My Fair Lady. BWAHAHA XDD No, I'm kidding. I've got the Epilogue left to write! So once again, I'd just like to give off a BIG, BIG thank-you to my reviewers, favouriters, alerters and just...readers in general! C: Thank-you for the support that you've given this story. I couldn't be more blessed to have a great bunch of online readers like you guys! Seriously, reading your reviews just makes my world go round. C: As usual, your comments, constructive criticism and reviews are LOVED! C:**

**I'll be writing the Epilogue soon, but in the meantime, I hope you guys are having a fantastic start to school! Push yourselves so you can do the best to your ability, but at the same time, remember to save time and energy on the things you love! C: I'll see you guys again real soon! Take care!**

**Luff,**

**Sam C: **


	22. Epilogue Part 1

**HELLO LADIES AND GENTLEMAN! C: Your dearest author, Sam C: here, just updating with the Epilogue. Y'know...no biggie. LOLOL. So uh, yeah, what do I want to say? SO MUCH. This is actually a very...sad night for me. Lol. I was reading my story a few days ago, and I can't believe how far it had come from August last year. I started this on August 1, 2010, and ended it on October 10, 2011. Hmm. One year, two months and nine days. I think...that's good? EITHER WAY, THAT'S NOT WHAT WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HERE. XDD**

**Soo! Because of you guys, My Fair Lady has reached 413 reviews! YES! We've reached the 400s! I never expected this to happen...ever, but it did, thanks to you guys. I couldn't be more grateful because I have such awesome readers like you! C: -Gives a 90 degree bow- THANK-YOU!**

**So, without further ado, let us proceed with...the Epilogue! C:**

**Fang - YOU MEAN. THE TORTURE. IS. OFFICIALLY. OVER?**  
**Max - And...you're happy with that?**  
**Fang - HELL YEAH, I'M HAPPY. NO MORE -**  
**Sam C: - EY! SHUT UP.**  
**Angel - Wow.**  
**Gazzy - Double wow. WHY THE HELL DID YOU -**  
**Sam C: - CAN'T YOU GUYS JUST BE QUIET?**  
**Iggy - Apparently not. -Takes a look at the screen- WTF IS THIS NONSENSE?**  
**Sam C; - You know you like it, Ig. Don't freaking lie.**  
**-Ella saunters in, looking gorgeous as always-**  
**Ella - Hey guys! What's up?**  
**Iggy - E-e-e-e-e-e-e-el...**  
**Sam C: - Her name is ELLA.**  
**Iggy - Right. E-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-el...**  
**Max - It's not EEL, you idiot. I don't even LIKE eel! Only Nudge does!**  
**Nudge - Ladies and gentleman, Sammy does NOT own Maximum Ride, Bruno Mars OR uh...Park Gee Yeon?**  
**Sam :c - It's JiYeon. JIYEON!**  
**Nudge - That's what I SAID!**  
**Total - READ ON!**

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

Twenty hours, two minutes and three seconds without any sleep. I've been waiting outside the operation room, hands still caked in dried blood. I didn't care that my face was sticky, with my hair matted against my cheek. Looking like crap didn't matter right now.

Fang was in that room, with the best surgeons operating on him right now. That single fact just terrified me, because knowing that Fang was on the line between life and death, I was so scared that I would lose him forever.

I never, ever expected that a bullet would shoot through the crowd and aim towards the both of us.

Or perhaps it's better to say that the tiny object was aimed towards me. It was no surprise when I walked out of the interview room at the precinct that on my way to the parking lot, I found Lissa, clad in black with hand cuffs locked around her wrists, as well as her personal, insanely-hot-for-an-ex-model-turned-bodyguard, Dylan.

Something held me back from beating the crap out of her, though. I mean, I could've. Wanted to, even, but there was a nagging voice at the back of my head that told me violence would just make this entire situation worse.

Besides: Fang was still in the operation room, and I wanted to be here, whether the surgeon was going to deliver good news or – I don't even want to think about it.

Sudden footsteps sounded, and I looked up tiredly to see Dad, walking towards me while waving a brown paper bag and a coffee cup in his hand. "Need something to replenish your energy?"

I shook my head. "I don't feel like eating, but thanks Dad."

Dad only seated himself beside me while wrapping an arm around my shoulder comfortingly. "Max, it isn't your fault. Please don't put the blame on yourself. As a manager and more importantly, your father, it breaks my heart to see you in such a dismal state."

I didn't reply him, because even if I tried to reassure him that I was just worried sick about Fang (Which was totally true), it would come out as a very evident lie, and he's the best at detecting when Ari and I are fibbing.

Iggy suddenly appeared several minutes later, with guilt completely plastered over his face. He started to scratch the back of his head uncomfortably, not knowing whether to begin with his deepest consolation about Fang, or to deliver the most sincere, heartfelt apology known to existence. "I don't know what else to say that could make you feel better, but – "

I just shook my head. "Save it, Iggy. I'm really sorry, but I'm just not in the mood for sentiments right now."

"What would you like?" I have never heard Iggy talk like this before, but I can assure you: His voice can be the most soothing thing next to a baby blanket. He seated himself next to me and sighed while glancing at me. "Max, you can't go on like this. You need at least SOME food in you! Fang won't want to see you, looking scrawny and weak. He's going to be heartbroken himself. I'm really worried about you right now…everyone is."

"You are? I thought you hated me…didn't you?" I questioned while Iggy coughed awkwardly into his elbow.

"Well, y'know…things can…change." Iggy finally replied after two and a half minutes of intense spluttering and choking.

I smiled weakly, and with his encouragement, I reached for Dad's brown paper bag that was resting on his lap and peered inside, letting the scent of a deep-fried glazed doughnut perk me up slightly. Despite my lack for any food right now, I nodded half-heartedly.

Just as I was about to take a bite, the light above the surgery doors flipped off, signifying that the surgery was over. I dropped the bag completely, knocking over the cup of coffee that was also resting by my feet.

The doctor, clad in his white cloak, emerged, eyebrows totally furrowed while shaking his head disappointedly.

One by one, the kind-looking (Yet tired) nurse, another doctor whose name I failed to comprehend earlier today, a few more nurses…all of them walked out slowly, dragging their feet wearily and looking as if life was sucked out of them completely.

The worst part was…every single person that walked out of the operation room had frowns plastered on their faces.

My heart literally fell out of my chest.

* * *

Thirty-two hours, eighteen minutes and fifty-one seconds. It's already been about half a day after the surgery. Fang was in comatose.

"Wake up. Please. Just do it for me. Open your eyes and look. Look around you." _Look at me._ My voice sounded so desperate. God, I hated sounding like this.

No response.

My hands wrapped around Fang's immobile one. I tried to feel for the warmth that used to be there, but it seemed as if I was touching an ice figure instead of a live human being. But I guess right now, trying to get comfort by touching his hand was already good enough.

He was alive, and that's what mattered to me the most.

But at the same time it didn't suffice. I know – ironic, right? The doctors left me scratching my head with an impossibly long list of questions that required answers.

The surgery was rigorous and exhaustive, and the doctors had to continually re-fill on their dose of black coffee to stay awake and alert. But because they knew that I wouldn't accept anything that was dead, they put every effort into the operation to make sure that he would stay alive – just for me.

But even with the bullet removed and the wound stitched and bandaged, it just wasn't enough. Fang continued to slip in and out of consciousness during the surgery, screaming out my name in horror before the surgeon finally declared he needed to be sedated with local anaesthetic.

The anaesthetic worked wonders – putting him into such a deep sleep. But then the doctors had originally claimed that this was just a 'local anaesthetic', and he should be awake within a day or two.

I guess not.

"We've done all we could. It now depends on him."

That's what every single surgeon says. It's the signature line. No doctor lives without it, and swears by it when they are dealing with unanswerable questions, such as the famous counterpart: 'Why is he looking like a zombie?' (Quoted from Gazzy).

"And what do we do now?" I challenged, feeling the blood underneath my skin start to boil. "Just sit and wait? He's _**THIS**_ important to me and you're telling me to wait it out? I'm _SORRY_, Doctor Whatever-The-Hell-Your-Name-Is, but I don't think you've had to deal with so much pain before in your life, right?"

"Max, calm down!" Iggy cried as he grasped the back of my almost-forming fists. He looked at the frightened surgeon with apologetic eyes. "I am so sorry. She just hasn't been the same since – "

"What the fuck do you mean 'not the same'?" I screamed angrily. "I am perfectly sane, thank-you very much! I just happen to have a lot of anger because these masters-degree assholes don't know a single thing about medication!" In frustration and anger, I kicked the plastic chair and slammed the door shut on my way into the parking lot.

As soon as I walked out, the sun miraculously disappeared behind the thick puffy black cloud, and God started to spill his tears of sadness. In fury, I ran out into the nearly empty courtyard, sinking onto my knees with rain splattering onto me, my hair growing damp and clothes sticking to skin.

"How could you do this to me?" I bellowed angrily. "How could you leave me clueless about the chances of him waking up? You're a prick! Do you hear me? You're a prick!" In response, lightning streaked across the black sky, with rumbling thunder following quickly.

"Max! Max! Are you okay?" Gazzy yelled from behind me, shielding me from the droplets of water with an umbrella. "Max, please don't do this! You're going to get hypothermia!"

I was thinking of something to counteract Gazzy's concerns, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I glimpsed at him before the tears overflowed me once again, and I collapsed into him. "G-Gazzy, what am I going to do?"

Gazzy swallowed back his tears before answering me. "You've got to stay strong – for him, Max." He wrapped an arm around me before engulfing me in a comforting one-armed hug. "We're all here for you, especially Manager Jeb, Iggy and me."

I sniffled before looking up. "R-really?"

"We're never going to make assumptions anymore about models-turned-assassins." He said with a cheeky smile that always uplifted my spirits. "That only happens in Resident Evil."

* * *

One week, four days, seventeen hours, two minutes and thirty-eight seconds. Ever since the encouraging motivational talk with Gazzy, I started to slowly replenish my strength in my baby steps.

Rome wasn't built in a day – you had to start off small. But I knew Gazzy, Iggy and Dad got my back, as did Angel, Nudge and Ella who had visited earlier during the week.

The Bucket List for the month was comprised of two very large goals. The first one was to take a deep breath, swallow my pride and drop off a care package for Ari, the one I shared cheese-dipped marshmallows with, the one whom I shared a make-believe castle with and the one who also ironically hurt me the most.

I rocked back and forth on my heels, with Dad following suit. "Ready to go in?"

"I don't know if I am, but I have to try." I replied, thoughts of his overreacting scenes replaying in my mind. "How is he doing anyway? Is he still traumatized with the fact that he fell in love with a femme de fatale who tried to murder him?"

"...Just be easy on him. I'll be waiting outside." What did Dad mean? Was something going on?

"Ari…?" I greeted, knocking on his door. He turned in his bed at the noise, and I was so horrified to see that Dad's cryptic statement had come true. Patches of thick dark brown hair was missing from his scalp, his normally twinkling emerald green eyes completely dull and lacking of energy, cheeks were sallow and sunken in and his lips no longer contained their ruby fullness, but rather, replaced with a ghostly, gauntly white.

Had he been self-mutilating himself? I averted my eyes quickly to his wrists. I was disturbed to see that they were bandaged. I was staring at a creation from The Hills Have Eyes.

"Oh, Max, it's you." His voice was so tired I almost felt the anger bubbling away before dissolve almost automatically. "Take a seat."

I set the basket onto his table before sitting down on the white plastic chair. "You look like shit." I commented bluntly. "Are you eating?" I glanced over at the side, where a pink and white tray lay untouched.

Ari gave off a hollow laugh. "I do, right? Not really. The food here is disgusting. They insist on giving me gelatin and whole grain rice – I mean, seriously, do they want me to die?"

And that's how the conversation fired off. At first, I had thought that this was probably going to be one of the most awkward conversations I've ever had, but generally, we reminisced about past childhood memories, and God, I can't tell you how it makes me cringe. Seriously, who wants to talk about their five-year-old self taking a crap in the backyard? For some reason though, it seemed almost normal to be talking to Ari about things like this.

Perhaps it was because Ari had lost his innocence to the first woman he loved who turned out to be a murderer, or it was self-pity that he couldn't rewind time. I didn't even know.

It was about forty-five minutes later that Ari got to the point of this entire conversation. "Max…?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Why aren't you angry with me?" The question caught me off guard. Not cool. "I mean," He shifted in his bed. "I accused you. _Twice._ I tried to kick you out. _Twice._ I protected somebody I shouldn't have when I should've been protecting you."

"…" I sighed before patting his hand gently, in which he flinched. "I am pissed off. In fact, I'm highly pissed that you would act so hostile towards me."

"But at the same time, I know you didn't mean to do it on purpose." I couldn't even believe how calm I sounded. Often times, I would think heart-to-heart talks would end up in screeching and hoarse yelling. He looked down at his palms, shaking his head disappointedly.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness" was the only thing he said. I was so stunned that it took looking down at the red pigment on his bandages to keep myself together.

"…Is that why you've been cutting yourself?" I asked sharply.

He nodded. "It's partly because of my stupidity, partly because of how naïve I was to believe her, but mostly because of you. You're my sister. I shouldn't be fighting against you to protect a girlfriend."

I backed into my chair and sighed. "Ari, everybody goes through a phase in which they think they've found the love of their life. You were blinded, thinking that she was the one, and she's not. So what? There are more fish in the sea. In fact…"

The golden halo of curls appeared at the door, only this time, she didn't have a smile on her face. Angel was timid and shy when she knocked quietly.

"I think that angelfish is here." I beckoned for Angel to enter while Ari just slumped in his bed, dumbfounded and speechless that their friendship still survived. I got up from my chair and patted Ari on the shoulder. "The ball's in your court now."

Translation? Give her the sincerest apology possible.

The world for me was more or less still in crumbles, but they were slowly fitting back together like a puzzle. I'd like to think that with trying to fix all of the chaos in my life, I wouldn't have to say FML too much longer.

* * *

_**(Ari's Point of View)**_

Max left, and without saying any single thing to Angel, she closed the door behind us, leaving nothing but silence and the very constant tick tock of the clock on my wall. I cleared my throat before speaking, but I couldn't even hear myself swallow. My heart was pounding way too hard.

I was nervous. I was anxious of about seeing her.

But for what reason?

"Hey Angel," I greeted, waving. I pointed at the chair, indicating that it was free for her to sit. In her arms carried a shopping bag, and a pair of knitting needles. She took it and sat after smoothing out her skirt. "How are you?"

"…I'm fine. How about you?" She asked, eyes widening ever so slightly with concern. I could tell she was worried about me, and because of that, I felt so remorseful. She was careful about letting her guard down. No longer were we the pair of best friends met what seems like a thousand of years ago backstage at the music awards.

We were awkward acquaintances. And I hated it.

"Fine as well, a little tired, but I think I'm alright," I replied. The awkward silence seemed to last much longer than three seconds before Angel spoke again, reaching into the shopping bag for sky-blue coloured yarn.

"I'm almost finished your scarf, by the way. I thought that you might want one. I'll be starting on some other winter garments soon." She said sheepishly, working her fingers around the soft angora. "The weather's getting cold, and – "

"I listened to the CD."

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

Two weeks, three days, nine hours, fifty-seven minutes and eight seconds. The second item on my bucket list was proving to be the most difficult one of all. It was to pay my presumed murderers, Dylan and Lissa, a visit in prison.

I know, I know, I'm an idiot, but at the same time, I was curious to find out what their ultimate motives were. In the ruckus and chaos at One Winged Angel's first concert, all I knew was that they were responsible for everything and hated me – but what for?

I was astonished to see Dylan, the originally attractive-looking and muscular bodyguard of Lissa's, covered in bruises so dark they resembled black holes. Dried blood crusted on the top of his forehead, signifying the injury was quite recent, and in the drab brown outfits, it was clear on his face that he was living in a hell hole.

The first thing he said through the phone seriously caught me off guard. "I'm sorry."

It took me a few seconds to regain my composure, but thank God I was still able to form a simple sentence. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I'm sorry for all of the trouble that I ever caused you while you were situated in Los Angeles." Dylan explained, a lock of dark brown hair falling down his eyes. "I never meant to hurt anyone, and I sincerely didn't think you deserved all the crap."

He sounded so sincere that I almost pitied him. "I know you're probably still furious with me for shooting Fang…"

Shooting. That word still brings chills up my spine. I gulped and nodded, allowing him to proceed.

"I was just…stupid and crazed. I shouldn't have done all of those things, but I did, and it just makes it that much harder to forget and reflect because I'm suffering from the consequences right now."

"You…really liked Lissa, didn't you?"

He scoffed, looking up into my eyes with tears glinting in them. "Liked isn't the best verb, Max. I loved Lissa. I truly did, and I still do."

"But she never appreciated anything you did for her. It would seriously suck to be you and, call me insane, but right now, I feel like you don't deserve to be in jail in the first place. In fact…" I continued, scratching my head. "If I were you, I'd try and forget her. She made both my life and your life so miserable."

"That's true," He agreed after a few minutes of trying to comprehend what I was trying to say. "And nobody ever said that the truth was easy to take, but at the same time, I don't have any regrets. All I want to do is protect her from now on."

That, my friends, is the story of a tragic unrequited love, but because of my first conversation with Dylan, I automatically knew what I was going to say to Lissa.

* * *

The second person needed a bit more coaxing, but eventually, she agreed. The flame-red hair was still there, her skin was breaking out in random parts that were covered with slick, oily bangs, but otherwise, she looked pretty much the same.

Same old Lissa, twice as bitter.

Her greeting was far less from welcoming. "Bitch."

I got straight to the point immediately. "You didn't have to be in jail, y'know. If you didn't obsess over Fang 24/7, plot different wiles and ways to murder me or implant a model-turned-assassin into our household, things could've been a whole lot different."

Lissa narrowed her eyes dangerously at me, and it was only now when I realized that she had a long, gashing cut on the side of her stick-thin arm. Okay, inference one: She needs to eat at least, oh I don't know, an estimation of at least sixty-two brownies to put some fat on her bones. Inference two: She must've suffered some here.

Quite a different world from being spoiled rotten as a kid to living in dirty, bacteria-infested prisons.

"How so…? You took my boyfriend, you landed me in prison – I bet this is a trick."

"No trick, Lissa," I countered almost defensively. "You just refused to see the world around you. You don't know how many people actually care about you. Y'know…" I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "If you cut down the snobby attitude and learned to look after others like they did for you, maybe people would've wanted to get your phone number."

"I have plenty, and right now, I don't need a lecture." She snarled. "Shut up – "

"You do know that Dylan loves you, right?"

That shut her up instead.

"I didn't think so." Before ending the phone call, I only said one more thing before packing up my things and heading out.

"He really loves you, and if you had any source of decency – "

"I KNOW what to do, idiot!" But her eyes spoke otherwise. They were much more softer than normal, as if trying to thank me.

Hmm…Lissa thanking me?

Nah.

* * *

Two weeks, five days, twenty-one hours and fifty-four minutes. I completely forgot about the seconds already. "For the last hundredth time, can you _**PLEASE**_ stir the sludge correctly?" Iggy demanded exasperatedly.

"I'm freaking stirring! What? Is there a particular _**METHOD**_ to stir the pot, because in Nigella's cookbook, it doesn't state anything to stir at exactly forty-five degrees and do it at speeds of one circle per second…!" I shot back as I threw the wooden spoon back into the pot.

Learning how to make jam was so much harder than it looks.

There wasn't any progress with Fang and his coma, and often times when I went to visit him (Which meant every single day), it seemed like his eyelids were twitching, but it was often the trick of the light.

I won't lose hope though. Just because he's not awake today, doesn't mean he won't be tomorrow. If he won't wake tomorrow, he will in the future. He won't leave me.

_He can't leave me._

"Where are my peanut butter and jam thumbprint cookies? I'm starving!" Gazzy howled from the living.

"**YOU SHUT UP!**" We both shrieked at the exact same time; Iggy wielding the dangerous butcher knife while I flicked the wooden spoon, sending hazardously hot and stick-to-your-skin raspberry jam at the cabinets.

"For God's sake, you two seriously need to chill!" Ella scolded, standing up to examine what the fuss was about. She peered into the pot and sniffed gingerly. "It smells delicious!"

"Thank-you for creating somebody like you, Ella," I commented, sending dangerous glares at Iggy. "I _TOLD_ you it was fine! I was doing it perfectly!"

"It was all thanks to Ella that the dough turned out okay!" He snapped irritably. "How in fuck's sake do you mix up egg whites with egg shells? You're contaminating the jam with salmonella!"

"Are egg shells NOT white?" I asked challengingly, holding up a cracked egg shell. "I think I proved my point! Your so-called 'egg whites' were transparent!"

"You're an idiot!"

"You _**KNOW**_ I don't do home cooking often!" Instead of finishing up, I dragged Gazzy by the ear and yanked him upstairs so we could play Code of War, but really, it was all just an act.

Do you seriously think I would get into fights with Iggy still?

…The answer is yes, of course, but not as explosive as this. It was all just a show, and what a hell of a show this would soon turn out to be.

* * *

_**(Iggy's Point of View)**_

I'm pretty thankful that Max has got my back, and I'm sending my benedictions to the Gods of Cuisine Cooking that she is a terrible, terrible cook.

Leaning against the counter in the most slouched posture possible, I sighed as frustrated as I could. Watching Ella take over the jam suddenly made me realize how motherly she could be, and I also suddenly realized that those freaking hormones just can't refuse her.

Her dark brown blunt bob cascaded down her shoulders gently as she continued her general routine of stir and sniff. In my eyes, I'd used to think that busty joggers in skimpy tight t-shirts would be gorgeous, but Ella puts them to shame.

She's hot. Really, really hot. And when the iron's hot, it's the perfect opportunity for you to strike it.

"Is it ready yet?" I asked in a confused tone, standing close beside her to examine the contents.

"I thought you were the cook in this household. Jam should be no problem," Ella commented, raising a suspicious eyebrow. "Besides, you have a – MMPHF!"

W-wait a second. Were her lips **SUPPOSED** to be –

"**OW, OW, OW, OW, OW! BURNING! BURNING! BURNING! IT BURNS, IT BURNS, IT BURNS!**" I screeched as I realized I had come in close contact with the wooden spoon. The NERVE of Ella to use it as a protective shield!

FYI, to all you males out there who want to lean in for the kiss, don't do it when you're making jam or melting sugar, butter and corn syrup to make caramel.

"You shouldn't have done it in the first place!" Ella sing-sang gleefully, humming to herself about stupid idiots (Please tell me this 'stupid idiot' isn't me), but her eyes softened as soon as she looked at me. Reaching up with her hand, she stroked my cheek gently. "But y'know, if you wanted to kiss me, you could've just asked politely."

"Would you've complied?" I asked, smiling slightly.

"…Maybe, and maybe not," Ella's such a tease. Feisty – I like that in a girl. She took my hands in hers and grinned. "But I also can't deny the fact that I think you're the one for me. Doesn't that just make you happy?"

I wrapped my arms around her tightly and nuzzled my face into her neck. "It makes me so much happier than I can ever imagine."

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

One month, thirty days and three hours. I couldn't even believe that time has passed by so quickly. Minutes and seconds were long gone; I completely forgot about them already. I sighed as I ticked off November the second on the wall calendar with my red Sharpie.

It's already been two months.

Nicholas Fang Robertson…you're going to wake soon. You will wake soon – I know you will…

At least, that's what I try to keep on telling myself.

As soon as I reached downstairs, however, I could hear a pair of voice squabbling heatedly from the kitchen, and I rolled my eyes, realizing who else it could be – Gazzy and Nudge, of course.

"I – don't – want – to – go – shopping!" Gazzy squealed girlishly, scrambling behind the coffee table.

"You – don't – have – a – choice!" Nudge grunted as she tried to heave the laundry basket full of his three-year-old clothes from the closet that were in dire need of a good washing – or the garbage works too. "I'm getting rid of _**ALL**_ of your clothes, and then you'll be sorry that you didn't take my fashion advice!"

"Compromise, guys, compromise!" I hinted as I stepped into my shoes.

Nudge dropped all of her at-hand tasks and gave me a big smile. "Hey, Max! Where are you off to now?" Knowing that the mention of Fang would make me slightly depressed, she just said, "Off to the hospital?"

I shook my head, nodding appreciatively at her sensitivity. "I have to go to CME today. I'm not too sure why, but all I know is that the Prez wants me there."

* * *

I used to believe that blackmailing adults was something to boast about, and sure, I still do it from time to time, but when you're dealing with stern-looking presidents who don't look like they're in the mood for joking, you know that:

You committed a crime so heinous that you're going to be punished for all of eternity.

You committed a crime, but in turn, it showed others your true potential and you're in for some amazing offer (No free lunch, of course)

You're there to witness the soon-to-be matrimony of your father and the President.

In my case? It was all three.

While the Prez started to fuss with her tea, it was only during this time that I realized how much she's changed. The belly's gone, replaced with toned muscle, the coppery-orange is vanished into a rich caramel colour instead that matched well with her skin tone, and well…

Overall, she just looked better than when I first met her, but I guess you can say that frowns generally make a person look much older than necessary.

"You do realize how much trouble you're in and how much the American music industry has been shaken because of your sudden appearance?" I hung my head lowly. I didn't mean to cause the trouble – it just felt right, and I don't really like to think before I act.

"Tabloids are calling, two months after the incident, wondering about you and your disappearance. Where have you gone? What's your name? What do you intend to do? How did you and Fang meet?" The Prez muttered, waving her arms around. Then, she stopped pacing the floor and turned her head to look at me.

"You're the juicy news that everybody is interested in knowing about."

"What about One Winged Angel's fans?" I asked out of curiosity, begging that there hasn't been a decline due to my rash choices. "There are no anti groups right? I would never live it down if they experienced this because of me."

I was pretty sure she was going to smile. Her mouth uplifted considerably. "Don't worry about a single thing. They're not enraged about the fact that you impersonated your brother to save your father from possible termination."

"You _TOLD_ them about my life story?" I cried, woebegone. "How could you! And it was without my permission to!"

"I only told the necessary truth," She explained after I calmed down with oolong tea. You should seriously try it sometime. It's delicious with a tea biscuit. "If it weren't for me, they would've been poking pitchforks into your ass right now."

I guess she had a point.

"So, thanks to me, your reputation is saved." The Prez said triumphantly. Uh oh. I don't like that nasty gleam in her eye. It looks like she wants me to do something that is entirely out of my comfort zone.

I sighed as I leaned back in my chair. "So what do you want me to do? Bake you a low-fat angel food cake for your selfless and kind deed topped with frozen raspberries since they're not in season right now?"

"As a matter of fact, no. Your father will be the one in charge of my healthy lifestyle," She looked so dreamy and out of it when she said 'your father', meaning my dad. I don't like where this is going, but I guess it just shows that love makes everyone go crazy. It's an instant morphine. "Instead, why don't you take a look at this and tell me what you think?"

Sitting right in front of me, on her desk, was a green folder with two pieces of paper stapled neatly with each other.

"What is it?" I asked stupidly. I'm not an idiot; I'm just too flustered and lazy at the same time to read. It happens to people like me.

"Read it please. I'm sure your mother taught you to read the simplest of letters."

It was a three-year standard musician contract.

* * *

Dazed and confused would be the adjectives that totally describe me right now. I sat on the plastic chair that I've learned to love, watching the stars from Fang's hospital room while trying to make up my own constellations at the same time with my finger.

The Demon Fang wasn't turning out so well and neither was the Ziggy Iggy, but I didn't have enough concentration in the first place.

At this point in life, only two things truly concerned me. One of them was the obvious; the second was – well – what my next step in life should be. I didn't even dare believe it when she flipped open the folder to reveal the contract, almost complete with just one more item: My signature.

If only Fang was here, then I'd know what to do. He'd advise me. He'd understand the complications and questions that I had. Then, after all was discussed and said, I'd know exactly what my next step should be.

I rested my chin atop of my knuckles. "You idiot, you've got to wake up, you would know what's right for me, don't you? What should I do? Should I go ahead and sign the contract, or should I just put all of my time and energy solely on taking care of you?"

No response except for steady breathing and his heart rate beeping steadily from the monitor. It was expected, but I was disappointed anyway.

I laid my head on top of his stomach, eyes drooping tiredly, while intertwining my fingers with his. "Tell me."

* * *

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Dad asked for the umpteenth time nervously, clasping his sweaty palms together. I rolled my eyes as I slid the black headphones down my neck.

"Dad, thank-you for your concern, and um, I don't know how to tell you this – I AM FINE!" I exclaimed in exasperation, slapping his arm lightly. "When I said I was ready to take this risky dive into the music industry, I was."

So guess what? Two months, fifteen days and seven hours later, I was in one of the most top-notched recording studios in Los Angeles, working with some of the most talented producers, composers and song-writers for my first digital single.

'Rolling' was probably going to be one of the most cherished songs for me. Not only did it feature keyboard (If you must recall why it's my favourite instrument, please refer back to the early stages of my life), but I, along with Angel and Iggy, composed it.

It's not every day that you get to write a song with your best friends and have it recorded.

As I placed the headphones around my neck, a bittersweet and sad thought popped into my head. Fang wasn't here, and it's hard, knowing that he's not here.

It's difficult to know that Fang's still in a coma and not supporting me from the sidelines, but –

"Max? You're on in one minute! Get yourself ready!" The producer warned from the studio, his voice echoing through the recording chamber, breaking my train of thought.

In response, I nodded at the band of people who were waiting for me outside, glimmering, hopeful smiles all set on their faces. Iggy shot me a thumbs-up, while Nudge sent me an 'I Love You' heart. They were supportive gestures – see? This is another reason why I love Los Angeles more than Washington.

The piano rift drifted lazily in from behind me, with gentle guitar strumming following close by. I closed my eyes, sucked in a deep breath and pressed the headphones against my ear.

"Rolling…the tears are flowing, rolling, just rolling…just like the silent pain that's winning over me…trembling, fingertips are trembling, just trembling…I must be reliving about those hap – "

"_**STOP!**_"

The shriek was so horribly loud in my ears I almost wanted to burst out yelling myself. I looked up in dismay, wondering what the shit had happened. Earthquake? Tsunami? Wind storm? None of the above?

Angel only shrugged her shoulders when I glanced at her; in fact, every single person had a confused expression on their face – a total WTF moment.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"What's wrong? The whole tone of the song is just wrong!" The plump producer scolded furiously from the control room. _Oh, well, thanks for not stating from the start, _I thought bitterly in my head. Normally, I'd take constructive criticism pretty well…

With this being the only exception.

"Can't you sound more painful?" She demanded impatiently, drumming her nails against the equipment. I'd advise her not to do that – she's just going to break it, especially with their five inch claws, and then, knowing the Prez, she'll force her into buying better quality, much more costly equipment.

Then again, she didn't have to hear it from me.

"Give it some 'umph', more raw emotion! Don't forget that 'Rolling' is about a girl who can't express her love in a mannerism that makes her feel beautiful about it, but the boy loves her anyway!"

"You haven't experienced this yet, I'm sure, I mean, look at yourself and the state you're in!" Excuse me? What the fuck was she trying to say? "So think of something depressing…like…like drowning puppies or something!" She suggested.

I was almost on the verge of breaking through that soundproof window and wring her head off, but I have self-control, and excellent self-control is the key to being a well-mannered citizen in the future.

…Who am I kidding?

Instead, I just rolled my eyes, with the producer mistaking my daggers glare of death for acknowledgment and approval of her satirical comments.

Just before the music was about to start, a small movement caught my full attention. I snapped my head towards Dad's direction, where he reached into his pocket and pulled out his currently vibrating cellphone.

I tilted my head to the side as I watched the scene unravel before me. After a brief chit-chat, Dad snapped his phone shut, and – believe it or not – the redness in his cheeks due to constant flustering and worry subsided into a pale, gaunt white.

Iggy, noticing the sudden change in colour, tugged on his shirt sleeve, mouthing some words to him in which I couldn't tell (Even with my experience in speaking silently to Dad in private). And he, in turn, turned just as white as him.

The worst part was: Iggy looked at me, with eyes drooping so sadly I was on the verge of ripping the headphones away from my ears, chucking them to the side and sprinting outside to ask them what was with the extremely depressed gazes.

What the hell just happened?

For that moment in time, I just felt so timid and isolated from the world. Usually, I would love seclusion because that's just the way I roll, but right now, everyone was informed of this certain situation that I wasn't aware of, and it scared me. I hated being left out alone in the dark, with no one to confide in.

It was frightening – and things didn't improve at all. Instead of the piano rift, Nudge's voice was heard from the speakers.

"What do you mean Fang apparently – "

…_What? _I instantly felt my blood run ice cold, freezing every part of my body. I could feel my mouth drop instantaneously as soon as Nudge said his name, and trust me; the tone that she said it in wasn't reassuring at all.

"Whoops!" The producer squealed, quickly directing the Prez to usher the group out into the waiting room. "Sorry, you weren't meant to hear that!" She clasped her hands together, probably praying the dear heavens that I had blanked out and didn't hear a single thing Nudge said.

What a joke. Of course I heard everything.

"Shall we get on with recording the – ?"

"What happened to Fang?" I demanded rudely, fingers protruding into fists, fists eventually cracking the fragile knuckles.

"N-no need for your concern! Max, you've got to finish the – "

"I don't give a shit." I was so angry at that moment. How could the producer say it wasn't any of my concern? For God's sake, I was watching Fang from the very moment he fell into that coma, and watching him lose weight until he resembled a skeleton was already painful enough. Now she's expecting to me to finish this?

The pianist got to his feet and quickly patted my arm, whispering, "Max, don't get on her bad side! You won't be given any more opportunities like this if you keep up with the – "

"Shut your face."

"Then, I'm afraid that I have no choice but to warn you that you are in total violation of your contract. You originally promised me to finish this song without any difficulties, but I do think it's proving to be quite hard now." The Prez warned coolly. "It states with quite a lot of detail on page five that – "

"And what good is there in finishing a recording?" I interrupted, unhooking the headphones from the back of my neck and throwing them onto the brown carpet. "Sure, it's going to benefit me and CME with sales and all that financial crap, but what about my own feelings?"

I didn't want to play the guilt card, but unlike Fang who uses his age-old trick of the poker face, emotions seem to take control over me. I know, I know; unprofessional. But what can I do? I can't handle this if I realize someone that I'm in love with is in danger – or worse.

The producer gave a nervous laugh, while the Prez's face continued to stay set like stone.

"You will finish this."

"No." I was through with this. With the woebegone instrumentalists gapping at me from behind, I opened the door into the control center, where the Prez had tugged onto the back of my hood to keep me from running away.

"Where in fuck's sake do you think you're going, Max?" Her tone was so bitterly strict and tough, but did I care in the first place?

Of course not.

I unzipped my jacket quickly with fumbling fingers, leaving her with only a green bomber jacket in her grasp. I whirled around just as I wrapped my hand against the door knob to the lobby, where she stood, completely astonished.

"Sorry, Prez, but you should know by now I disappoint people all the time. This isn't a first. I can't do this."

* * *

Dad wasn't surprised to see me in the parlour. He knew me all too well, but he was dissatisfied with the way I had acted – especially since it was towards his soon-to-be second wife. "You shouldn't be out here, Max. Go back inside."

I shook my head vigorously; with my heart pounding so hard it almost drowned out Dad's words. "You know the person I am. Knowing that Fang is….insert-whatever-you-want-in-here, how am I supposed to concentrate on recording the song anyway?"

The truth had to come out sooner or later, and Dad's remorseful glance started to deepen. I stared at him with just as much intensity. "Tell me what happened. I need to know. I have a right to know."

He took in a deep breath before opening his mouth. "He's awake."

"Well, that's good news, isn't it?"

But something told me this wasn't 'good' at all.

"He disappeared."

* * *

Dad and I, Iggy and Ella, Gazzy and Nudge and Angel all split up as soon as we arrived on the outskirts of Downtown Los Angeles.

The first place Dad and I checked was, if it wasn't more obvious, the hospital. I didn't even realize how painful it was to wait for the ever-slow elevator to make its way to the main floor until now. I remembered his room number easily – Room 1502.

Frantic-looking nurses and doctors were all scratching their heads, wondering where on Earth Fang could've gone. I only snorted. _There's no use trying to search for him in the hallway of his room. He's a smart genius – meaning, he probably ran off farther than twenty metres. _

I poked my head inside, and sure enough, the occupied bed for the past two months was now empty. Blankets and pillows were tossed messily on the cot, the water jug leaking droplets, the vase of flowers knocked over with invisible glass shards becoming a hazard.

_What in the world happened here? A nuclear explosion?_

There was no mistaking it though. The photograph of Fang and me from our first photo-shoot, which was lying perfectly on the cabinet in its black plastic frame, was gone. I picked the empty frame with my shaking hand, suddenly realizing it was ripped in half.

He took his half, leaving mine behind.

* * *

The next place we checked was back at the villa, and unmistakably, he left traces there too, but it wasn't nearly as evident. It almost felt – I don't know if this is the appropriate word – _weird_ to be walking into a place that I was supposed to be leaving behind.

I felt like a newborn who didn't know anything about the world. Literally.

The ironic thing was: I was planning on leaving Los Angeles, for good, and all of a sudden, I'm back.

"It looks spotless." Dad commented as soon as we stepped in. "He wasn't here."

I stayed silent while I observed the area carefully – the counter was left in the state it was yesterday afternoon, dust-free. The kitchen faucet was dripping water at a constant (And annoying) rate, and…the daisies. The presumed dead daisies that would be great for bookmarks in that water jug…

They were gone.

* * *

By this point in time, my heart was starting to lurch with worry. Every single highway, every congested street we drove on, it just made me more anxious when I would look into the crowds of people and see nothing that came close to his hospital gown.

Dad, looking from the rear-view mirror, gave me a hopeful glance. "Hey, don't look so glum, okay? We'll find him, and when we do – "

I only toned him out. I know Dad meant well, but the more I thought about it, the more stupid I felt. I mean, he was (Technically speaking) my other perfect half, and – maybe I'm not destined to be with him at all, and maybe I am – if I am supposed to be with him for like eternity, I should know him and the potential places of where he could be.

To be honest, I felt so guilty right now. Wrapping my arms around the back of my neck, I leaned against the rocking window and closed my eyes. God damnit, I shouldn't have skipped visiting him at the hospital today; I could've kept him safe or…or…or done something so that he wouldn't have left!

It was already dusk when we arrived back at the CME building. Great. Not only did I lose Fang, I would also be losing my recently-signed contract.

Oh well – the Prez was prepared to expect trouble from me from the moment I took off my shirt to keep her from raping me when she still thought I was Ari. And where the hell did the rest of that group go? Weren't we supposed to meet up several hours ago to report our findings?

Yes, I just said 'findings'. Sue me.

When we walked into the brightly-lit lobby, however, I was shocked (And not to mention surprised) to see that every single person, dressed ever so formally in black sleek-looking tuxedos (With a pizza stain on Gazzy's, no questions there) or dark navy-blue dresses, there, smiling joyfully, and – get this – even the Prez was smirking in extreme blissfulness in her (I can't believe I'm going to say this) very, very attractive emerald-green mermaid dress.

"She's here! She's here! She's here!" The crowd hushed excitedly before me. I furrowed my eyebrows in anxiety. I must be dreaming. Pinch yourself, Max, pinch yourself.

Oh shit. My bad. It's reality.

I mean this literally: What the fuck was going on? Why the hell were they all clapping? AND SMILING? Fang was still disappeared for God's sake, and they're –

The constant strumming from an electric guitar, and the steady beat from the drum kit that were both situated on a larger white platform sounded, and I looked up, tilting my head to the side in utter confusion.

Dad only pushed me forward, and I tumbled, where Angel quickly linked arms with me and dragged me on stage, literally skipping.

"It's a beautiful night, and we're looking for somethin' dumb to do…hey baby, I think I wanna marry you," Iggy sang huskily, and Ella – looking gorgeously fabulous – brushed back her hair behind her slender shoulders and planted a small kiss on his cheek.

"Is it the look in your eyes, or is it the dancing juice? Who cares, baby? I think I wanna marry you…" She stalked towards me with glinting, mischievous brown eyes and handed something to me: It was a daisy.

"Well, I know this little chapel on the boulevard we could go…no one will know…" I ALWAYS knew Gazzy and Nudge would make the dynamic (Conflicting) duo! Look at how sweet they are – and besides, she's the only one person who could ever tame his closet with clothes covered in stains of all sorts.

"Oh, come on, girl!" Gazzy and Nudge, hand-in-hand, skipped towards me, passing me another one of those white flowers.

I presume 'skipping' is in style right now.

"Who cares if we're trashed, got a pocket full of cash we could blow, shots of patron…" The melodic merger of Angel's and Ari's voice mesmerized me for a few moments before I realized that she actually left my side.

Their voices are so simple, so soothing, yet powerful enough to penetrate the ear with so much emotion at the same time. I guess Angel reformed him somehow, because he definitely looks happier and healthier – but I will NOT need to know about the details. Yeah, uh, way too much information for me to consume in one go.

"And it's on girl!" Ari, covering his mutilated haircut with a hand-knitted toque (Probably from Angel, since that girl is like the Master of Stitching), bumped fists with me and gave me a one-armed hug.

"I say no, no, no, no! You say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!" I walked slowly towards the center of the stage, where something I saw kind of…gave me a terrifying sense of déjà vu. "And we'll go, go, go, go, go…if you're ready, like I'm ready!"

Fang's half from the photograph at the hospital was taped onto the microphone, and glued attached to it was the most recent picture of me at Mom's wedding ceremony three months ago. My trembling finger traced over it absent-mindedly, hardly daring to believe it.

Only one person has access to my incredibly embarrassing photographs of me in high heels and dresses – Mom.

The music started to fade away into simple strumming for background music, and just as I looked up towards the sea of heads before me…

Unmistakably, the person that was supposedly in a coma was walking – no, make that strutting cockily with that smug smirk that I hated yet loved at the same time on his face – towards me, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans.

He wasn't totally recovered yet, but there were noticeable signs of improvement in his body. For one, his cheeks looked less sallow and ghastly. Really, when he was still in that coma, he looked like a vampire. Okay, a really hot one, BUT I REFUSE TO GIVE INTO THAT SEDUCTIVE VAMPIRE SHIT.

Two, he could actually walk on two feet without the need of supports like crutches or (In worse cases) a wheelchair. I'd push him though…if that was necessary (But knowing Fang, he'd make me do it just because).

Three, well, it was his actual freaking body standing just several inches from me. No, scratch that. It was him taking my hands in his own.

This was real. It wasn't a life-like dream.

"You're alive," I whispered hoarsely.

He snorted childishly, and I, due to my overly sensitive personality, smacked him hard on the arm. "I am still in my recovering stages, Max." He stated so dully I almost burst out laughing. "You have no authorized right to hit me like a boy."

"Are you trying to insinuate something?"

"Yes," Fang replied calmly, extending his arm so it wrapped around my waist instead. I swear, these butterflies need to get out of my system or so help me I'll –

"You might act like the biggest idiot sometimes, but you're probably the fairest lady I've ever met."

"Oh, I get it," I observed intently, smacking my forehead dramatically. "Using fourteenth century vernacular to woo me, eh?"

"No," He countered, truly smiling for once in his life. "It's just a comment." And without saying anymore, he pressed his lips against mine, and oh my God, those butterflies just surge every single time.

I'm not a huge fan of the cheesiest things ever known to existence, but for once, I actually…enjoyed this. After all, who said calcium was bad for the body?

I started to rock back and forth on my heels as the group before us started to coo in excitement. Biting my bottom lip, I watched as Fang got on one knee, reached into his pocket for a small leather box…and instantly, I froze on spot.

He – he wasn't thinking of…of…y'know…marriage NOW, right? We're still teenagers! And uh, uh…

"Don't excite yourself too much, Max," He said, rolling his eyes. "Take a look inside first."

Oh, it was a ring, alright.

But it was a friendship ring – and for someone who kind of detests wearing any sort of jewellery, I loved it.

"And…?" I questioned, almost breaking out into an instant grin.

Fang shrugged, and I instantly grimaced. God, the asshole's such a smart alec. Sometimes, I wonder why I even ask such rhetorical questions like that. "So Max, due to the fact that I really, really, really, really, really, really, really times infinity like you…would you like to be my best friend? Forever?"

Hmm…? Forever? Forever seems like a long, long time…and it'll probably mean having to grow old with silvery white hair, a hunched back and a cane.

Heh, what the hell.

"Forever it is, indeed," I agreed, and as soon as he stood back up on his two feet, I crashed right into him, pressing a kiss against his lips.

* * *

**YES! So here it is, people. The end of My Fair Lady! Phew. I can't even believe I finished a twenty-one chapter story. I never even thought about accomplishing something like this before! XDD Seriously, I don't think I could've done this without all of your support. Really, thank-you a million times. I can't stress this enough, because you guys just encouraged and pushed me to continue my passion for writing this story! C: Thank-you so, so, so, so much! I love you all! C:**

**So, this MAY conclude My Fair Lady, but I actually have a quick special that I want to write. I just don't think it would do this justice XDD Or maybe it's just me. Tell me what you think! Would you like a one-shot special, or should I just end it right here? Your comments, concerns, constructive criticism, reviews and everything else will make my world go round! C:**

**Once again, Sam C: would like to make a list of shout-outs to her beloved readers, starting from Chapter 1...all the way until Chapter 20! C: **

**Netsrik10  
KC  
ShadowDweller97  
SallSall  
RandomAsRainbows  
OceanButterflyFlyAway  
RiCKId  
musichun9  
nathan-p  
Love don't cost a thing  
AngelOfAwesome  
lila18  
deathtobieber  
HeAt-StRoKe  
JezabelStrike  
storyteller1425  
Night Wolf  
desperatelyobvious  
The-Green-One-Eyed-Bloke-O.o  
GuMmY bEaRs  
maceygirl  
Emily Key  
'spunky'aardvark'4eva'**

**xoiLuvFangxo  
nyteraven  
snowflakelhf  
Falling Closer To The Edge  
MidNyteMelody  
FAngs-REAL-Wifey  
Banana Twinkle  
FallenSnowAngel5297  
Call Me Bitter  
Moon Agent  
Blastedpyro  
booklover98  
i-dont-tell-strangers-my-name  
Light Iron Girder  
Ccfyucgf  
CinnamonMuffin**

**Ari  
Ally  
mysterywriter2418  
bookworm  
Fan123  
SailByTheStars  
SomethingAboutDarkAngels**

**THE NINE TAILS FOXBOY**  
**LovinTheSun1996**

**Shayna-18**  
**KiMiRoSeFaN**  
**Nofreakingway**

**RisingSkyscraper  
Carted Off  
alsin**

**CrackHeadBlonde  
Liked  
Keeptappin92**

**A Well Wisher**  
**porcupine451**  
**Faxbeliever02**  
**Blank**

**Beeni  
MrsFangalicious  
KeBz0  
jahfreenalam**

**MPHknows**  
**THEYELLOWROSE**  
**BlueButterfliesPlayOnMyGuitar**

**nom nom**  
**another epiphany**  
**Gingelover253**  
**kdrama-lover**  
**ArtIsOurAmmunition**  
**Dolphiness**  
**Alice Moon Child**  
**Armadillo**  
**moncheri9**  
**delightfulenchantment001**  
**Lord Docteus**  
**Lena**

**AriBaecker**  
**Princess Sarcasm96**  
**Perseus12**

**ReaderGirl15**  
**maximumcrazy**  
**zombieswillattack**  
**JealousMindsThinkAlike**  
**Athena**

**raining-ash**  
**Bandgeekclarinet14**  
**randomazn**  
**desiree31**  
**FlyForever**  
**cinnberrytrix**  
**tophwannabe**  
**BigYellowTruck**

**VampsRule**  
**Ffffaaaaannnnnngggggggggggg**  
**Kelly**  
**Axe09**  
**XxWishingForWingsxX**  
**aalaal**  
**So damn annoying**

**justmyself**  
**StJimmy's army**  
**Icy and Fire**  
**Revveh**  
**Raviolli101**  
**Just Another Dove**  
**Animeteen221**  
**takeitback**  
**XxDDxX**  
**Xx-ThisSucks-xX**  
**Just an Angel of Death**  
**AwesomeRaNdOmFries**  
**DaughterofWolf**  
**TheAwesomesaucenessOfDa**

**Wowwow234**  
**funnygirl32815**  
**fucking anonymous**  
**jfeisgs**  
**The Jade Empress**  
**WaitingWeepingWillow**  
**OMG**

**PandaCutie**  
**Jasha Maroi**  
**U ME UME**  
**Tri-Sierra-Tops**

**Daiseybear  
RukaRoit983  
PromiseKeeper**

**Believe-It-Or-Not**  
**Animalover**  
**Hsjzsjx**

**YES. YOU. ALL OF YOU AWESOME PEOPLE YOU. (Along with all my favouriters and alerters! Sorry I couldn't add you on! :C) DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS DO TO ME? YEAH, ALL OF YOU. YOU MAKE ME SO HAPPY. XDD EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. :DDDD Thanks once again for ALL of your support! I couldn't have done this without you! C: Virtual cookies and brownies for everyone! No, not even. October 9th was my 18th birthday, so uh...FREE CAKE AND ICE-CREAM! C:**

**SOO! Did you love it? Hate it? So so? TELL ME BELOW! I'll see you guys real soon! Oh my Gosh, it's almost 2 in the morning and I have Marry You by Bruno Mars on repeat...yeah, I need my sleep. LOLOL. Talk to you guys soooon! C: C: C:!**

**Luff,**

**Sam C:**


	23. Epilogue Part 2

**Hello everyone! It's Sam C: here! Okay...so I have a confession to make. I lied to one of my readers, Generation Nothing, about when I was going to make a final update for My Fair Lady :C I am deeply apologetic to her, because I delayed Part 2 by two months! I'm really sorry for the delay. School has been driving me crazy, and even though the semester is over (Which is why I was able to take time off from studying to update), I still have finals to worry about! So once again, I apologize for my lack of updates, but I hope Part 2 will be able to bring a smile to your face. Hopefully! C:**

**I also forgot to give a shout out to another reader: Night Wolf! I'M SO SORRY. I SWEAR, I SAW YOUR NAME ON THAT LIST, BUT THEN FOR SOME REASON, IT ENDED UP DISAPPEARING. :C**

**Okay! So even though this is going to be the end of My Fair Lady, I'm pleased to announce that I have a new FanFiction in mind, which will be about Fang and Max. Again. C: I just love writing about them!**

**So, without further ado, let's begin!**

**Max - So...so...this is the end? Really? REALLY, REALLY!  
Sam C: - I'm afraid so, Max.  
Fang - YESSSSS! MUAHAHAHA! NO MORE TORTURE!  
****Sam C: - We'll see about that.  
Nudge - Fang, I don't like that look. When she gives the look, you know she's going to make you do something ludicrous...like...like...  
Gazzy - Like make you eat WORMS!  
Iggy - We all ate worms before, didn't we? They're not HALF bad.  
Max - YOU DOLT! We're regular humans that eat REGULAR PEOPLE FOOD!  
Sam C: - "People food"? Hardiharhar, Max, you are HILARIOUS.  
Max -...You know what I mean.  
Angel - WE'RE GOING TO MISS YOU, SAMMY!  
Sam :C - I'M GOING TO MISS YOU TOO, ANGEL!  
Fang - PFT. I'm not.  
Sam C: - Do you want to die? Right now?  
Fang - BRING IT.  
Ari - Read on, people! **

* * *

_January 22__nd_

"_G-good morning," Max croaked tiredly as Fang, leaning over the side of the bed in his perfectly styled hair and ironed dress shirt, felt her forehead with the back of his hand. Sure enough, it was burning up, and it showed no signs of deteriorating in the time being._

"_What were you doing last night!" Fang cried, distaste colouring his tone. "Did you give in to Gazzy and actually did an enactment of singing in the rain? The temperature is freezing cold and you…you! I can't believe you!"_

_Max didn't even have the energy to argue with him. All she did was huddle up in the midst of her thick blankets and rolled over, tucking in her knees to preserve the warmth. "It…was…fun…" _

"_Ugh, God…why do I even bother warning you when all you're going to do is break the rules and refuse to listen to a word I say?" In a matter of moments, however, he had exchanged his casual press conference attire for a pair of sweatpants and a grey hoodie._

_Once Fang hopped downstairs and strode towards the medicine cabinet, Iggy raised a suspicious eyebrow. "What are you doing, Fang? I thought you were all dressed and ready to head out! Jeb's not going to happy with you, just saying." _

"…_I know," Fang muttered half-heartedly, scourging for a bottle of Tylenol. "But I've got a personal matter to deal with today. I think you and Gazzy will need to go on without me."_

"…_Let me guess," Iggy began, crossing his arms against his chest. "Max is sick?"_

"_Are you psychic?"_

"_No." Iggy only laughed, gesturing towards the waste bin full of used tissues. "Ever since breakfast this morning, Gazzy wouldn't stop sneezing, and his umbrella is still in the basement downstairs for drying."_

_Fang shook his head disappointedly. "Those two…"_

* * *

_February 14__th_

"_This is a total disaster." Fang commented as the pair stared at the blackened interior of a pot of a presumed caramel base, the displeasing odour of burnt sugar wafting through the villa. _

"_You're telling me. Who knew that peanut brittle was so hard to make?" Max agreed, setting it back onto the stove top as she whipped off the oven mittens, staring at Fang widely for any further options._

_Their previously planned first Valentine's Day dinner failed completely. Everybody was informed that Max was a horrible chef, but Fang? He could boil water to make instant noodles, so he wouldn't die from starvation…but pretty much every ten year old knew how to._

_Fail. _

_But Fang is Fang – and being Fang, he has other excellent plans that could be devised in less than two seconds. _

"_Want to order take-out?"_

"_Even better option," Max suggested, discarding her apron onto the table quickly. "Let's go out to that local food truck and eat so we could avoid Dad and his little temper tantrums later on."_

"_Fine by me."_

* * *

_March 15__th_

"_Fuck you." Max rarely lost her temper, but when she did, it's like all Hell broke loose. _

"_No, Max, listen to me." Fang replied with the same amount of venom in her voice. "You're the one who's being an idiot."_

"'_I was out at the studio until this morning'! That's probably the flimsiest excuse I've ever heard!" She exclaimed furiously, slamming the bedroom door in his dumbfounded face. "Why don't you just tell me the truth, and actually admit where you were yesterday night? You know, lying just makes things worse."_

"_When you're ready to admit what happened, I'll be waiting – right here! Until then, you're sleeping in Iggy's room!" The words exchanged that morning were so harsh and brittle. To the rest of the members in the household, it seemed as if their relationship was broken beyond repair. _

_Well, if only Max – and her stubbornness – would give Fang the benefit of doubt. And if only Fang was tolerant enough of her rash personality to explain the entire situation. Then, perhaps they could still sew the rip back together – with a lot of thread._

"_Remember your words, Maximum Ride. You're the one who's making a mountain out of a molehill. Wait forever, for all I care."_

_So both of them blew up in each other's faces, but what was going to happen now? Fang felt completely remorseful inside, and Max felt equally guilty. But for now, neither was willing to apologize to one another._

* * *

_April 1__st_

_It had taken Iggy much persuasion, but Max made the first move. It was already more than two weeks that the two had spoken. She hated to admit it, but watching Fang treat her like she was invisible was a miserable experience._

_Fang was busying himself in the kitchen, washing up his dishes from breakfast when he caught sight of her walking in. Immediately, his back stiffened and he resumed his chore, trying to stay oblivious about the fact that she was approaching him closer and closer by the second. _

"_Fang…" Max began, almost in a wheedling voice. Even more surprising, she started to tug onto the sleeve of his shirt. _

_He almost broke the glass plate he had in his hand._

"_You got that right." _

"_But…hey, what else could I believe! You came home late that night." She exclaimed, ducking her head slightly. "You didn't tell me where you went, and…I'm just worried about you, y'know? I mean…"_

_At that point, even Fang himself was way too inattentive to finish washing the rest of his dishes. He immediately turned off the faucet, and removed his rubber gloves. "What are you trying to say? That you don't think I'm trustworthy enough?"_

"_No, no, no! That's not what I mean." She started to shake her head vigorously. "What I'm trying to say is that…"_

"_Go on."_

"…_I almost lost you once. I don't want to ever again." _

_Oh, so that's why. _

"…_Come here." Looking into her apologetic eyes, Fang couldn't bear it any longer. He only wrapped his arms around Max's body and practically engulfed her in the biggest hug possible. _

"_These few weeks were absolute Hell."_

* * *

_June 16__th_

"_**ASSHOLE! **__ YOU ARE SLEEPING OUTSIDE ON THE PORCH TONIGHT! NO IFS, ANDS OR BUTS! I REFUSE TO LET YOU IN THE HOUSE!" Max screeched upsettingly in the shot gun, refusing to look at her reflection for two seconds in the rear-view mirror._

"_Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit, Max? I mean, c'mon! It's just a haircut!" Oh, God – the presumed birthday gift he THOUGHT she would thank him with all the gratitude in the world turned out to be his worst nightmare. _

_Next year, he was going to buy her a nice book. And make a hand-made card. But that's it. _

"_What you're REALLY trying to say is that I look better as a boy! I can't believe you! Would it kill you to at least ask for my opinion before asking Antoinette to shear my hair off?" _

"_Technically, Max, his name is Antoine." Fang stated matter-of-factly. "Besides…" They had approached a red light, and he took this free opportunity to run his hand through her wispy bangs that cascaded down her chocolate-brown eyes. _

"_You're gorgeous," He complimented. "Whether you have short hair, long hair tied into a braid or a skin head – "_

_The perfect moment spoiled._

"_**I AM NEVER LETTING YOU TOUCH MY HEAD EVER AGAIN!**__"_

* * *

_July 9__th_

_Max never trembles in fear. __**Never.**__ She's fearless, isn't she? She could walk into haunted houses and yawn at the fake-looking zombies that were dripping in hot sauce or ketchup (Take your pick). But for some reason, her hands were shaking when she walked into the nearly empty practice room._

_It was just him left, obliviously tying up one of the black extension cords and completely unaware that she was leaning against the doorframe while trying to suck in a deep breath…which was totally difficult to do. "Fang, do you…do you have a second?"_

_Fang whirled around, his cheeks uplifting into a smirk. "For you, Max? I've got the whole world. What's up?" He patted onto the stereo box, indicating that she should take a seat. _

_Max tried with a fair amount of difficulty to calm her nerves. Impossible task indeed. He squatted down, taking her hand in his. "Well…" _

_His eyebrows started to furrow. "…You're not pregnant, are you? If you are, I will never live it down."_

"_WHAT THE FUCK!" Max whipped him hard around the head, in which case, Fang started to moan with pain. He deserves it though – that…that…imbecile. "What goes on inside that perverted little brain of yours, Fang? I'm curious to know….but um, no, that's not what I want to talk to you about."_

"_Max, seriously. If there's something you want to say, then please spit it out and tell me. We've been together for almost nine months. Don't hide anything. Just say it."_

"_Um…"_

"…_Yes?" He prodded gently, almost bursting from his position with impatience. Besides, squatting was one of the few exercises that really burned his legs. _

"_I want to join an organization and volunteer with kids in Africa for four months.__" The only problem was: Max slurred all of her words. _

_Well. That certainly was a mouthful._

"…_Do you mind repeating that?"_

* * *

_August 12__th_

"_So, I guess this is it. You guys are all checked in and ready to go!" Jeb said, handing Max and Fang their airplane tickets. Max had to admit: Her father was taking the news of the two of them venturing to Africa to do valuable volunteer work quite easily. _

_But it wasn't until when she gave her father a one-armed hug that she realized how easy it was for him to mask his uneasiness._

"_Be careful, okay? I trust Fang, and I know he'll do an excellent job in protecting you, but please take care of yourself as well." He whispered, patting her back comfortingly. _

"_I'll be fine, Dad. I promise." _

"_I still can't believe we only made a comeback for less than a month, and then you're already leaving us behind with Max!" Gazzy fumed, his face reddening as he pouted his cheeks. _

"_Our album was successful though." Fang pointed out, ruffling his dirty-blonde hair that was no longer spiked into the perfect mountain peak…which just irritated the little guy even more. "I'll be back. I'm not gone forever."_

"_Yeeah, I guess," Gazzy drawled, nodding thoughtfully. He crossed his arms against his chest anyway. "But what else am I going to do with all my free time when you're not bossing us around?" _

"_I see a bromance happening…" Max coughed under her breath, linking arms with a nearby Nudge. "Our boyfriends make the cutest couple, don't they?" She added, smiling oh-too-gleefully with half-moon eye slits. _

_Nudge grinned, making kissy faces at the grimacing pair. "You said it!"_

_Fang only rolled his eyes, wounding both arms around Gazzy and Iggy. "Oh, please. Jealousy is never a good thing. It's always the bros before the hoes. Got it?" He seemed to have it in the bag. Really. Until… _

"_Chicks before dicks." Max countered airily, a triumphant grin plastered on her face while Fang's mouth dropped. "Learn it."_

* * *

_September 30__th_

"_Sorry about that, sweetie, but I already have a boyfriend!" Max said while smiling at the five-year-old who had proclaimed his 'love' for her with a bouquet of bent grass and weeds. _

_He started to scowl. "Who!"_

"_Him!" Max pulled the very preoccupied Fang next to her by the arm, who was surrounded by a curious crowd of young four-year-olds examining his acoustic guitar. "His name is Fang."_

_Fang bent down and ruffled the little boys' hair. "Hey there! What's your name?"_

"…"

"…_Hmm?" Maybe he was shy, but that malicious gleam in his eye proved otherwise. _

"_You're __**UGLY**__!" _

_Well now. That was just awesome: It was the first time in Fang's life that he was told off by a kid that he wasn't physically attractive._

_A date to commemorate? Probably…_

* * *

_October 31__st_

"_Hey look, kiddies! We've got candy!" Max exclaimed cheerfully, grinning lopsidedly like an idiot while Fang sauntered into the brown building that morning as a totally unhappy camper. _

_Normally, he was happy to be volunteering for children. He liked them. They weren't annoying._

_Except today, where every single child ranging from the ages of five to pen started to poke at his protruding belly – and laughed boisterously. That was the strange things about kids, and one thing that he could never hate about them: They found satisfaction in the simplest things._

_He would've never believed that Max packed the sumo wrestler costume into her suitcase. And she said there was no more room left – he thought she was only lying so she could stash more pads in to last her the four months. _

_God damnit it all. _

"…_Tch…" He fumed as he tried to waddle away. It was no use – he was just too lumpy and squishy. In comparison to the energetic kids, he was like a ready-to-be-disposed-of battery. _

"_Smile." Max urged, resisting the urge to burst out laughing at her boyfriend being harassed and assaulted in a very friendly manner while passing around miniature packages of M&M's from the orange jack-o-lantern bucket. _

_Yes, yes, 'harassment' and 'friendly' are two polar opposite words that will never be found next to each other in a world-renowned dictionary like Merriam-Webster's, but what gives? Kids will always be kids. _

"_No." His response was firm. Too bad he always finds himself in a slight predicament. Seems to him that Max always has an alternative solution to unresolvable problems like this… _

"_Do it." Max threatened, reaching into the back pocket of her jeans for a short, sharp needle. "Or else I'm sticking this into your face."_

_And at the end of the day, Fang – with sweat dripping down his face until it formed a little puddle on the sandy ground – still complied with her. Mostly because he didn't want to be blinded at the early age of twenty-one, and partly because she kept on taunting him with candy._

_He hated Halloween with a passion._

* * *

_Present Day – November 17__th_

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

I guess time really does fly by when you're having fun – or in my case, it's 'work' and 'fun' combined, so 'fork' or 'wun' would be deemed the appropriate term. One year. It's been one long and excruciatingly painful year since the day I had signed the contract.

Wait a second. Not one year. One year and approximately two weeks. There we go – much more accurate.

I don't bother keeping track with days or hours or minutes or seconds anymore. Maybe it was useful for me when Fang was still in comatose, but now when I think about it, it was a stupid idea anyway.

Hmm, then again, I kind of liked circling dates and crossing them off with gigantic 'X's.

Plenty of changes have happened ever since that day Fang awoke from comatose. If you didn't realize it by now, Iggy and Ella got together, often showering each other with compliments and (At times) fighting at the stove top, complaining that the soup 'needs more salt' or that it 'needs more pepper'.

Obviously, girls side with girls, but I added a tiny comment and Ella practically exploded on me, stating that I knew nothing about the culinary art and that I should be baked in a hot potato – which, of course, was a total compliment. I liked potatoes.

Oh, right, and they're super competitive for the average young adult to handle. You know things get out of hand when they have a contest on who can pile their pumpkin pie with the most whipped cream – and then end up barfing in the toilet all night.

Of course, the love bug didn't bite just them. Gazzy has learned to pick out more stylish outfits now and learned that shirts with year-old stains should be discarded, thanks to Nudge, and she's learned to take a breather from fashion and play some good old Amnesia: The Dark Descent with him – and get scared shitless by 'The Bro' or some penis monster (Quoted from Gazzy's YouTube phenomenal hero, PewDiePie).

As for Angel and Ari, they've been spending pretty much every single day with each other at 4EvAir's villa. I mean, don't get me wrong, the bands still live completely separate. But she likes coming to visit us (Mainly my twin brother though) and vice versa. Honestly, I wouldn't know what the two of them do in a secluded household, but I trust them both to make the right decisions.

I sound like their moms.

Oh, God, that's just wrong.

With Ari completely recovered from that incident, he learned to wipe off his chalk-filled board and transform it into a clean slate. He never ended up debuting in One Winged Angel. Rather, he applied to the local music college and got accepted to major in music composition.

Gosh, I bet he took my words seriously when I said he wasn't fit for working in the entertainment business. Good on me, good on me.

Little Angel is exactly what her name states. She helps him every now and then when the horrible memories of Francesca just float in ever so sneakily, to remind him that he shouldn't be put so much of a burden on his shoulders.

Those two might not even look like they're in a relationship if you were to see them on the street. From an observer's point of view, they may look like two best friends who have known each other for a long time, but for the rest of us, we know it's more than just friendship – and I couldn't be happier for him when he finally realized Angel was the one for him, not good-looking models who just pose in high heels and fan themselves with their hands.

With Lissa and Dylan both serving ten years in jail, Mrs. Gorgorvitch ended up dropping from her position as the CEO of L.A. Muzik. I still have no idea where she went, but rumours were circulating in the music industry that she was in Mexico, soaking up sunlight instead of trying to fight for her daughters' freedom when she first heard (In the newspapers and entertainment tabloids) that she was thrown in jail.

I know – she's the ideal mother.

Hearing this news, my brilliant Prez (And almost-to-be-wed stepmother for now) Marian Janssen purchased the music-producing company.

So, all of L.A. Muzik's current artists were under Creators of Musical Energy, including 4EvAir. Angel replaced Lissa as the leader, and I literally jumped out of my seat and tackled Angel to the ground when I heard the news.

On the downside, they still haven't fixed that Intertainment sign. It still bugs the hell out of me that the Prez still uses that piece of paper with a gigantic 'E' to fix it.

Damn construction workers. You offer finger sandwiches and ice-cold lemonade that was catered from the best place possible, and they actually went to the nearest park to feed the pigeons with stale bread crusts.

Dad ended up getting a raise, as well as a promotion. After the full month and a half of worrying that he might get fired for being irresponsible for his soon-to-be-artist (AKA Ari), he wasted seven wrinkles for nothing. Instead of managing for just One Winged Angel, he managed 4EvAir as well.

Besides, even if he did get fired, he and I didn't have to worry. I think Dad could get a job as an ice-cream scooper at the local gelato store, and he'd still be content with his life. That is – if the Prez doesn't back down from the marriage at the last minute. They were strictly business by day, and…I don't even want to talk about it at night.

What about me…? And Fang…?

* * *

There was total silence in the crowded living room of the villa. Except for the occasional grunts from Gazzy and Nudge – who were completely engrossed in a furious battle against zombies on the Wii game console – the other two were in a complete slump.

Scratch that – even those two gaming nerds (Yes, Nudge proclaimed herself to be a fashionable one) were already starting to lose their enthusiasm for head shots and infected blood erupting from the living dead.

Besides, you could only kill too many zombies in one day before you totally lost it and started to sleep with a butcher knife equipped underneath your pillow.

"I miss Max." Ella stated almost sadly, resting her head on Iggy's lap while he started to thread through her thin strands of dark brown. "I can't believe it's already been four months. Four long freaking months, and I haven't had a guinea pig to test my concoctions on! Does she seriously want me to commit suicide?"

Iggy rolled his eyes. Mentally speaking, of course – as drop-dead gorgeous as his girlfriend is, he definitely didn't want to accidentally light up her flare, particularly when she's already irritated or annoyed. It was like PMS all over again – without the oily skin. "Well, y'know, they're doing a pretty fantastic job of keeping themselves hidden from us."

"What the – !_** ARE YOU HOLDIN' MY HAND**_?"

"Yes…"

"I ain't yo' motha! **GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME**!"

Ella winced slightly at the vulgarities unleashed emitting from the television stereo. Stretching over, she reached for the red and beige-coloured box, examining the title carefully. "House of the Dead: Overkill? Given an M rating?" She murmured in disbelief, tossing it back onto the table.

"Seriously, Iggy, where did you buy that game? You KNOW Gazzy's not old enough for this!" It felt weird to be taking Max's place. Usually, Ella wouldn't have given a crap if her beloved band mate and her boyfriend weren't playing the appropriate video games. That was Max's job.

"**HELL YEAH**! **BOOM, HEAD SHOT**!" On second thought, Nudge does have a nice aim for protruding-bellied mutant clowns. Or maybe it's just because the target is so obese. "Take that, slime ball!"

"That was **_MINE_**!" Gazzy whined miserably. "And you weren't even supposed to take MY side of the enemy! Take a look at the rotating golden brain! It'll help us win more points!" He made a vicious grab for the Wii remote, and in turn, Nudge started to whack him.

"Stop it! Stop trying to steal mine! See? It's got rhinestone crystals attached to symbolize my first initial of my name!" Using her finger, she pressed the Home button just in time to show off the brightly-coloured stones encrusted behind the B button to form a cursive 'N'.

"Yeah, nauseating, that's your name!"

"Why, you - !" The sound of tinkling china meant that Jeb was going to furious when he comes back from his tuxedo fitting. Oh, God…but on the bright side, Ella never lived at One Winged Angel's villa. She faced the wrath of the usually refined Jeb Ride once – never going back ever again.

"Uh…shouldn't we break them up before they hurt themselves?" Ella suggested uncertainly, getting up slowly as the blood rushed into her head. Smoothing her hair, she stood up while walking towards the kitchen to avoid being trampled like flowers in a grazing field.

"Let them be. It's not the first time they've wrestled like this." Iggy replied.

Gazzy was yelping in pain by now, as Nudge flung the Wii remote across his face and it hit him squarely in the jaw. Needless to say, when you see a girl kick her boyfriends' ass, it's pretty much fair game.

"You're despicable, you know that?" Ella sighed. She let her boyfriend wound his arms around her waist anyway. Regardless of the numerous complaints that she could list about him, he was never going to take her seriously.

"So I've been told, Ella. So I've been told."

* * *

_**(Angel's Point of View)**_

"I can't get the stupid stitching right." I complained in frustration, setting down the knitting needles onto the table while Ari came around, finally breaking his continuous stare with his computer monitor. Without even asking what was up with my strange and huffy expression, he only patted my hand gently.

"You should start off the season with mittens and toques. Don't try to start on a huge project," He lifted the white yarn that was dabbed with dirty fingerprints. "Especially on circus tents." Honestly, he reads too much Harry Potter – either that or he's just a huge fan of Hagrid.

Thank God dragons don't exist.

I moaned in exasperation. "This isn't a circus tent! It's supposed to be a pillow."

"Take a break. You need it." Ari tucked the instruction manual back into the bookshelf and seated himself onto the wooden chair beside me. "Who's it for anyway? Is it supposed to resemble a penguin or a very demented cat?"

Leave it to Ari to deliver the most satirical compliments possible.

I tucked a piece of blonde hair behind my ear and sighed, resting my chin on top of my palm. "Well, I was actually planning on giving this to Max and Fang when they come back from their volunteer work. It'll coincide perfectly with Christmas." I didn't even want to explain what my ideal end result was supposed to be.

I'll only say this much: It's a warm-blooded mammal that is considered endangered in China.

"I heard from the Prez that Max and Fang are coming back in January, so they'll celebrate Christmas there instead. You know my sis: She loves doing meaningful volunteer stuff like this." Ari explained. "Besides, their comeback date is presumed to be sometime in the beginning of February."

I narrowed my eyes slightly, drumming my fingers rhythmically against the counter. "You've been composing songs for them, haven't you?"

"…Yes, but they're just manuscripts!" Ari raised his arms, trying his best to look completely innocent. As if I would actually take one of my needles and stab him in the heart. "They're not even actual songs – just random quotes that I scribbled down and jumbled into a verse. And then from then on, a bridge is formed, the chorus flows in and – "

I didn't need to listen to the art of producing a good hit. I only sighed as I glanced at my wretched creation. "Then my gift will be nothing compared to yours! I guess I'm just wasting my time with this…"

"You do realize, Angel, that _**I**_ don't have a panda pillow." Make note of the emphasis on the noun. "I wouldn't mind something like that to add to my collection…"

"You wouldn't mind anything that I knit." I retorted. "Your closet is full of hats."

"But I wear them every Winter, don't I?" His prodding was successful, because unmistakably, I started to pick up the knitting needles and yarn again, albeit the how-many-days-old brownie crumbs and dirt that dusted the panda's cheeks.

"Fine…" I grumbled. "But you're going shopping with me tomorrow to find something better for Max and Fang so I don't look totally cheap in comparison to you."

"Done deal."

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

Grumble. Grumble, grumble.

_SHUT UP, USELESS BURDEN OF A STOMACH!_

Grumble, grumble, grumble.

I wriggled out of the comfort of my cot, lifting Fang's arm that was wrapped protectively around my waist. From the corner of my bleary eye, I smiled tiredly as he tried to tug on the blanket. Figures – even in this sweltering heat, the blanket was his number one priority (Next to me, of course).

Rubbing the goose bumps that trailed my arm, I stalked outside into the grazing field of the African Savannah before me, seating myself on a thick log while watching the night sky. You could never see the stars this clearly. Even in a city, such as Los Angeles, with such high socioeconomic status, nature was always artificially produced.

Oh, right, I completely forgot the main reason why I was out here: To ease the embarrassing noises that I was making.

Thank God I always bring a lighter with me. I know, I know – technically, I should be able to make a fire WITHOUT the aid of a lighter, but what the hey. I'm hungry, it's 2 AM in the morning and I shouldn't be up and about, but I am.

It's good to be in South Africa.

In a matter of minutes, I was already roasting sweet potatoes on the fire. Fang wasn't going to happy with me: One of the newly recruited volunteers (Mind you, he was here with his Global Studies class somewhere in Canada) we met has been continually flirting with me for the past week and a half, and apparently, his way to show his appreciation/admiration/flirtation/attraction (Take your pick) was to sneak lumpy vegetables into my backpack.

Still, they're a good late night snack.

"What? No whipped cream to go with it?"

I felt a warm blanket drape its way around my shoulders. But I instantly grimaced as Fang's hand started to ruffle through my hair, which was now even more streaked from working in the sun all day – not that I'm complaining though. I loved it.

"No wonder I felt the opposite side of my bed was empty – you were gone roasting potatoes to eat without calling me." Fang teased.

"Where did you think I was?" I asked as I wrapped my free hand around his fingers. "I would never let myself come in close contact with a lion, and nor would I be sharing _**ANYTHING**_ with that idiot from Canada. He's a dick. Did you know what he said about you during dinnertime when you went to fetch water with that other girl?"

Make that a really pretty female with long strawberry-blonde hair, twinkling periwinkle eyes and ruby glaze set upon her voluptuous lips. God damnit, it bothered me to see her thirty-seven inch hips sway back and forth while she continued to laugh heartily at every single fucking thing that Fang said.

Simply put: I was jealous out of my brains.

"I…." He tilted his head to the side, pursing his lips. "Wouldn't want to know, but knowing you, I'm sure you had some trick up your sleeve to make him shut up." It's true though. A smile started to play on my lips as I recalled my battle tactic: Either be quiet, or I'm stuffing earthworms down his underwear.

Oh, those were some good times.

"Want one?" I asked, poking a separate stick into the second one. "He gave me three as a peace offering. His words, not mine. He knew I got pissed."

"A peace offering for what?" He asked, slightly amused as he started to sear it against the roaring fire. "To make sure you don't find elephant dung and throw it in his face?"

"Well, technically I wouldn't throw it in his face." I muttered, shaking my head disapprovingly at the humongous assed chick and her failed flirtatious manner. "I'd probably put it on Nigella Lawson Number Two's seat."

"Was she bothering you that much?" That was just a rhetorical question. He's such a prick.

"She fucking draped _YOUR_ arm around _HER_ neck while you were heaving that water bucket back to the dining area by yourself!" I fumed, blowing onto my freshly cooked potato. In a fury, I immediately yanked on the skin –

Which resulted in a minor burn.

"Ow, screw you!" I yelled. Yes, Maximum Ride is scolding her food. Sue me if you must. It's a free country – I can do whatever I want.

"Sh! You don't want to wake the rest of the guys!" Fang warned, placing a finger against my lips while staring back into the cramped miniature-sized open cabin. My eyes started to wince with tears as I glanced down at the irritated burn on my hand. It was already starting to swell. For fuck's sake – !

He glanced down at my finger, and without saying another word, he immediately dragged me by the wrist towards the lake that was about half a kilometre from where we were sitting.

"But Fang – "

"No buts!" He ordered, slightly snappily. "We're going to get you fixed up, whether you like it or not."

…I should seriously think with my brain the next time I wield a boiling hot object on a stick. This is also one of the reasons why I don't like roasting food – I am prone to sticking it into my mouth without letting the heat disperse evenly.

Looks like my midnight snack was going to have to wait.

* * *

"You should really try to avoid any type of food that requires a grill and a skewer. Not trying to imply anything; it's merely an observation." Fang makes a very good point as he wrapped the gauze around my ice berg of a finger.

"Oh, shut up, Fang." I barked, finally biting into the (Miraculously) warm vegetable. "It's not like you never burnt yourself. Would you like me to put a scalding piece of melted marshmallow onto your tongue right now?"

"Your bark is worse than your bite. You'll never do it." Fang laughed while wrapping the blanket around me again. "You simply love me too much to do so." Screw the sexy smirk on his face. I always fall prey to it – every single time. When I threaten him or do something similar, he counteracts with glinting teeth.

"So why were you out here, besides the evident fact that your stomach can't wait until breakfast? You couldn't sleep?" He asked quietly, perching himself onto the log as well. Extending my arm, I wrapped the blanket around his back and scoffed.

"More like you couldn't stop flailing your arms like a squirmy octopus, and started to thwack me in the random of places."

He smirked (Yet again, oh my God), interlocking his fingers with mine underneath the blanket. It figures – he never takes me seriously, and his sleeping habits are something that needs to be dealt with. Effectively.

Even to this day, I still couldn't believe Fang would abandon his musical career for a short period of time to volunteer with me in Africa. I mean, I wasn't doing this because I wanted to promote my image or what not. Besides, it was already slightly tarnished for being 'that dumb blonde whore' – and I quote from anti-fan number one hundred and fifty-two.

…Honestly, she should schedule a PET scan, 'cause the last time I checked, I was a brunette with sun streaks lacing through my locks.

I know. I live a sad life.

I guess you could say that I did it on an impulse – and I wouldn't have it any other way. It's a true eye-opening experience for me, especially since my overprotective mother never let me out of her sight within a ten metre radius back in Washington. It took much coaxing to help her realize I was capable of walking around in an airport on my own.

Building houses and wells, singing songs in schools and visiting the kids – it's a lot more than just volunteer work for me. It wasn't just seeing the prideful faces of those kids that I managed to influence with the songs. It was also who I sang them with.

It was about four months ago when I told him about my idea to join an organization and volunteer – and to my surprise, he agreed. During that time, One Winged Angel was already planning for their full album comeback (And I'm sure they would've made an all-kill on the charts, no doubt about that), but he, he of all people…

He agreed to go with me straightaway without any hesitation – and it's also one of the reasons why I love him so much. Fang supports me all the way, and sometimes, I feel guilty for not offering the same amount of support when he needs it the most.

K, yes, I admit: I can be pessimistic. Dude, I'm a girl. And because girls will be girls, they will have their time of the month with major PMS. Fang doesn't try to pick fights with me though, and I try to do the same by not snapping at rhetorical questions, such as 'Where's the salt?"

"Can you believe?" I began absentmindedly, leaning into his shoulder as the steady chirping from the crickets started to ease into a melodic rhythm. Absolute music to my ears.

"What about?" He asked, turning his head to kiss my forehead gently.

I closed my eyes, smiling. "I just remembered what day it is today. It's already been one year since you asked me to be your best friend."

He nodded. "How could I forget? I also wouldn't forget to mention the forever bit."

Oh, right, that was the deal: Forever was part of the package.

"It's not easy trying to find someone to spend forever with, y'know," He added, almost bashfully. Fang wrapped his arm tighter around my waist, and I snuggled into him even more tightly. "But I think I can proudly say that I have."

"Seriously?" I asked, turning my head to look at him. Not that I didn't trust his words, because if I had minimal trust in this relationship, I would've held him at gun-point in the center of his bedroom when he comes home late from a 'late recording session at the studio' when we were still in Los Angeles a few months ago.

Well, I'll add in the fact that he did use that excuse on me once – and yes, I'll admit it resulted in one of the first of many blow-up fights we had. But it resolved itself in the end…because I had to swallow my pride and listen to the advice of a fellow buddy who practically saved our relationship.

…Still need to find a way to thank Iggy though…

"Seriously." Fang started to play with the silver band that I refuse to take off from my finger. "I should get you something better, Max." He finally said with the evident eyebrows of guilt and pursing lips plastered on his face. "When we get back – "

"No, you will not. I forbid." I stated solemnly, slapping his hand away. "I like how simplistic it is. I don't really care if it's encrusted with fifty-seven mini diamonds and is shaped like a heart." Besides, I didn't like wearing too much flashy jewelry. That's Mom's job.

"Less is more, Fang." I patted his cheek gently, and they uplifted considerably. My words always do the trick. "And to be honest, ring or no ring, I would've said yes to you anyway. We've just been through way too much."

"You can say that again," He muttered under his breath. "Who knew I, Fang Robertson, would have to be hospitalized?" My smile faltered, but he did bring up a good point. It was one of our main trials that tested our relationship and more importantly, my patience and resistance to throw flying fists at the doctors' face.

Nobody knew that he would've dodged that bullet for me.

"And who knew that I would save you from a falling spotlight?" I added. He smirked, ruffling my hair once more.

Yup – I cut it again. Fang insisted. Actually, scratch that: He forced it on me. It was a birthday gift. He thought I would love it. He didn't know I was going to damage his ear drums in the end.

"Your boyish cut seems to do much more damage than necessary. Maybe I shouldn't have saved your butt when everyone started to criticize you for being One Winged Angel's bad luck charm." He teased. I instantly scowled, removing his hands roughly.

"It's entirely your fault! I still have a rain check on that pizza dinner, y'know. I still haven't forgiven you for that incident." Pointing fingers wasn't one of my bad habits that I'm particularly proud of, but if times are dire, it is absolutely necessary, especially when facing this difficult best friend of mine.

"Well, I think short hair makes you look sexy."

Oh, God. I forgot to add one thing: Blushing is not one of my professions. And when I'm red in the face like a drunk with nowhere to escape but underneath a blanket, you people know that I'm screwed.

"Flattery gets you nowhere, Fang. I think I told you before, didn't I?"

"You're starting to sound like my mom…" He rolled his eyes, but as soon I was on the verge of smacking him on the arm, he rebounded. Typical guy thing. "Regardless, I still think you're pretty awesome. I mean, who else would impersonate their twin brother so they could save their fathers' reputation?"

At that, I didn't know what else to say. Simply put, I was tongue-tied. I didn't even know why, exactly. Jeez, Fang is the only guy so far that has managed to make me embarrass myself…

But despite that, there was still one setback in our relationship.

Aside from that time where he pronounced his love towards me at One Winged Angel's first concert, he hasn't said anything else since then.

It bothered me just a bit to realize that:

A: He's probably not comfortable expressing his emotions.

B: He hasn't been this invested into a relationship before.

Or even more drastic, Explanation C, in which I don't even know what to say. I'm plainly confused.

Okay, you know what; I'm a terrible liar, so I'm just going to say it: It bothered me a lot.

God, oh, God, I hate that feeling of remorsefulness and confusion that settles in.

I looked down at my palms instead, lost in thought, and watched as the moon cast long shadows against the evergreen oaks.

"Is something wrong, Max?" Fang asked, breaking my train of thought. I perked up, shaking my head while stifling a yawn.

"You should go to sleep. We've waking up early tomorrow to perform for the kids, remember?" He patted his oh-so-attractive shoulder, and inevitably, I complied, nestling against his body.

* * *

_**(Fang's Point of View)**_

In a matter of moments, Max finally settled like a slump against my shoulder, breathing steady and even. I looked down at her sleeping figure. Who knew she could be this cute when she fell asleep? Then again, I wouldn't have noticed anyway. Usually, I was the one who passed out before her.

Silently while mentally praying that she wouldn't stir in her sleep, I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and fished out an envelope. I examined it carefully, twisting it with care in my fingers. Just as I was about to tuck it into her lap, she got slightly aroused and adjusted herself.

I froze instantly, but as soon as she resumed her previous state, I placed it onto her lap and sighed with relief.

This probably wasn't something Nudge or Ella would find suitable as an anniversary gift. They're more of the types who would rather get the materialistic things, like Dolce and Gabbana t-shirts, or Louis Vuitton wallets.

Oookay, I'm over exaggerating, but oh, my God, you should've seen those ugly teddy bear sneakers from Jeremy Scott that Nudge bought 'because they were simply adorable and she hasn't seen any shoe with creepy teddy bear heads attached near the laces'.

And because she's Nudge, she only wore them once to a CD signing. With a black knee-length dress and rainbow coloured stockings.

The majority of 4EvAir's fans call her the 'Fashionista of the Century…So Far'. As for me, the label that I find most suitable for her is the Worst Dresser of the Century Forever.

She hasn't even worn them since, stating that it was 'out'. Mind you, if I went out with her (Which will NEVER happen in a million years), I would be bankrupt by morning.

This is also one of the reasons why I love Max so much. She's nothing like the other girls I've dated previously. She doesn't take anything for granted, and she finds so much pleasure in the simplest things – just like that plain friendship ring I bought a year ago.

To be honest, I still feel a little awkward and uncomfortable for not buying her something more costly, but knowing Max, if she found out that I was going to get her a diamond ring or anything that cost more than two hundred and fifty dollars, she would have my head. Literally.

And then use it as a seat.

That's another thing. She has always been considered the tough cookie, the person that's hard to crack (Unless you were Gazzy – because she absolutely loves that kid) and will not take our shit.

Well, I guess you could count that time she burst out in laughter due to my very mortifying duet of Black and White with my presumed murderer Lissa, but it doesn't matter either way…

On a bad note, I used to love the black chocolate cookie with white filling. I never got enough of them. If they needed a poster boy for Oreos, they could've asked me – one year ago. Now, I can't stand the taste of Oreo cookies on my lips. Ugh.

But I guess what I'm trying to say is that despite her cold façade that she puts on sometimes when meeting random strangers or acquaintances met a decade ago (I quote from her ancient Aunt Abigail: "Oh, my! You've grown to be the perfect flower boy, Max!"), she's still so kind and considerate. I can't disregard that fact: Every single day, her eyes light up when she sees her efforts have managed to influence somebody's life.

It makes me content, seeing her so contended.

I look down at her angelic face again. Even without proper sanitation, even with dirt and grit dusted on her cheeks and clothes with each and every day, she can still appear so beautiful. Yup: I don't even need to say it.

She's definitely my one winged angel.

I leaned down and quietly mumbled three words to her before perching my head against the palm of my hand and drifted off into darkness.

* * *

_**(Max's Point of View)**_

I was asleep. I really was.

**OH**, for fuck's sake, who's going to believe that?

The palpitations in my heart were increasing rapidly with each second that ticked on. He said it. He finally said it. After all this time of hoping, moping and psychologically analyzing every article on prepubescent relationships that Nudge gave me, those three words were said.

As soon as I heard his quiet snoring, I opened my eyes and found myself staring at a thick envelope addressed to me.

I could recognize his handwriting any day. Man, his cursive writing improves day by day. I'm envious.

Using the tip of my fingers, I slid the envelope open and out fell three items. One was the glossy paper that you would only get after developing photographs, the second was a fancy letter with a proper letterhead and all that stuff, and finally, the last was etched with his writing again. A letter, perhaps?

I picked up the photograph, tilting my head to the side in misperception. Why was Fang giving me a picture of a five-year-old African girl named Tatiana? Sure, she was all dimples and smiles (Meaning she was absolutely adorable), but it left me utterly confused. Maybe the second item would help clarify…

I couldn't believe it.

It was a letter: A congratulatory letter from the organization that we worked with, to be precise. Both Fang and I were going to be new sponsored parents for the little girl.

I picked up the final piece of paper with trembling hands.

_Dear Max,_

_So, where should I start? Maybe by saying 'happy one year'? I mean it's already been three hundred and sixty-five days (If my Mathematical skills are at least mediocre). It's something worth celebrating, don't you think? You know, I haven't celebrated one year anniversaries with anybody before – disregard One Winged Angel, please, because they're the same gender as me and it'll just make me feel sexually awkward inside. _

…You know, I never realized that stuffing your entire fist into your mouth could be so useful in preventing horrid boisterous laughing fits. Okay…calm down Maximum Ride…continue on with the letter.

_I honestly don't know where to begin. Ever since asking you to be my best friend forever…actually, scratch that. There's just way too much that has changed in the past year. Good changes, don't worry – it's nothing bad._

Those palpitations – they were coming back.

_I feel so blessed to have you in my life, and although I'm not exactly the type to go all mushy gushy and say I love you every waking hour like those pubescent little girls and boys on Jersey Shore, I do. Love you, I mean. I sometimes feel that we, as individuals, overuse the phrase way too much. And when we overuse something, we tend to take people (Or objects) for granted. It loses its meaning, and I don't want that to happen for us. _

I never sob at mushy gushy letters. This was probably going to be the only exception.

_I mean, when we go grab a bite to eat at the grilled cheese truck, I hear pedestrians tell their significant others that 'I love you!' but in reality, they only met in a bar the night before and had an intense one night stand. Totally crazy, right?_

_We're not like that. _

_Do you remember when you first told me that you wanted to take a few months off of your musical career to volunteer in Africa? At first, when you asked me, I saw the look on your face. You seemed so anxious and cautious – as if every word you say would have a substantial impact on me and my career that I love so much._

_I mean, I could understand why you were so nervous. One Winged Angel was preparing for their comeback during the time, and of course, being the leader, I am required at all times – not to be boastful or anything. _

_But you know what I said. I said yes. And when I saw those watery eyes, I started to feel anxious on whether I did something wrong. It was a mixture of utmost confusion with tears. This is what I mean by acting deluded. You can be quite cute when you pull off that facial expression without even knowing. Were you touched or something? But anyways, that's not my point here…you can see that I often drift in my thoughts. I don't know how I managed to write blog posts with such a concentrated angle and topic._

_I said yes partly because I feel that doing volunteer work can help the world prevent even more man-made or natural disasters but mostly because I wanted to be with you – wherever you are. Be it South Africa, the United Kingdom or even Antarctica, the place is totally fair game._

_As long as you're with me, I think I'll be fine. _

_And this brings me to my second point (I sound like I'm writing a college essay, but whatever). One word of warning, Max: I don't plan on going anywhere without you. _

_Be warned though, that if I'm given a choice to make between you and my band mates, you can assure that I'm the bro that would pick the dicks because the chick…_

_But of course, knowing me, I'll find some way to abduct you. After all, 'nothing is impossible'. Besides, don't try to hide it: I'm just that awesome (Not as great as you though)._

_In any case…I'd just want you to know that I plan on staying with you for the rest of my life, regardless if you want me there or not. I'm not going to listen to anything that starts with the letter 'B', and if you ever think about cheating on me, then forget it. Because before you even manage to sneak a kiss with that potential asshole, I'm going to rip him apart._

_With my teeth. I've got the sharp canines. You do know that I'm a natural meat eater._

_I hope you find our one-year gift meaningful. I know how much you don't like materialistic things. You always tell me: It's the thought that counts. Well, why not put that thought into something useful like this?_

_I think I'm starting to ramble now. I ramble when I get nervous. And then I work up a cold sweat. I know, I know – Fang? Cold sweat? In the sweltering heat? It just doesn't add up._

_So, how should I conclude this? _

_Thank-you for the past year of boisterous fights, happy laughter and joyful memories. I'm not able to tell the future, and I know that sometimes, I'm not the best boyfriend. But I can tell you that whatever happens, we'll be able to get through it. I can pinky-promise you that much._

_I love you._

_Fang_

* * *

**So I guess this is my last little piece of My Fair Lady! **

**It's actually really, really amazing watching the number of readers and reviews grow for this story. Thank-you so, so much for everything, guys! I couldn't have made it through without all of your lovely reviews and your encouragement C: I will try my best to respond to every single review (After my first final is over!), but I can't make too many promises. I will do my best though! I really want to give my thanks to every single reader C: **

**I really can't believe this is the end LOL. But all good things must come to an end! My Fair Lady, honestly, was a blast to write and I can't wait until I start on my next story for Max and Fang, which will be titled "My Sassy Girl". I just can't get enough of these two! When will I upload the first chapter? Maybe in January? XDD Sorry about the delay, guys! Haha. **

**Umm, what more do I have to say? Really...just...thank-you so much. C: I LOVE YOU GUYS! C: **

**Well, it's 12:44 AM right now. I think I'll conclude by saying...THANK-YOU! THANK-YOU! THANK-YOU! XIE XIE! SANK-KYUUU! KAHMSAHAMIDA! DUO JIE! MERCI! I'm trying to think of all the ways to say thank-you in different languages, but I'm so brain dead from Biology at the moment. LOL. I know it's pretty early, but I don't think I'll be able to go onto FanFiction for awhile so...**

**Have yourself an awesome Christmas! C: Take care of yourselves in December, and I will see you guys real soon!**

**Luff,**

**Sam C:**


	24. This is NOT an Update

**Haro everyone! :3**

**So I just wanted to give a big, BIG thank-you for each and every one of you that made My Fair Lady…just…so awesome. Really, from watching the number of readers and reviews grow from a measly 7 at the beginning (Yes, I remembered EXACTLY how many reviews I got LOL), to 459 reviews! I seriously couldn't have done it without you guys, and if I could, I wish I could give each and every one of you a virtual hug. :c**

**Seriously, thanks so much. I cherish every single review that I have received from all of my readers and I absolutely loved reading all of your comments. Haha. I always feel that little zing inside whenever I see 'You Have Received a New E-mail from FanFiction'! **

**Okay! So, I know that there were a select few who actually asked me if there was going to be a sequel for My Fair Lady. The answer is a most definite no. I apologize! I really felt that Part 2 of the Epilogue was fairly decent and wrapped up the story well.**

**SO, does this mean I'm going to stop writing FanFiction? OF COURSE NOT! Haha.**

**I have finally uploaded my second Max and Fang story, titled 'My Sassy Girl' with a complete Prologue, as well as Chapter 1 that I had updated just yesterday. If you're interested, please go right ahead and check it out!**

**Read it, and…?**

**I don't know! The choices are up to you! C:**

**In the meantime, I hope all of you had a wonderful S.A.D. (Singles Awareness Day), just like me. Haha XP! I hope to see you all very soon on my new story! **

**Luff,**

**Sam C:**


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